motherhood · Poetry

Bright Yellow Boots

if you’d stayed little
like all mothers sometimes

then I wouldn’t smile
so brightly now
watching you toddle
in your bright yellow

and one day
standing in the kitchen,
I’ll be having a conversation
with a man,
and I’ll wonder how it happened.
I’ll think back for
just a second
to once upon a time
when you fit perfect in my
young arms.

but you’ll say, “Mom,”
and I’ll look back at you
instead of everything,
and I’ll think how much I love
that you didn’t stay put
in those bright yellow boots

timeless string of moments,
never enough.
much too wonderful
to miss. . .
here is my grown son.

don’t stay small forever, son,
because I want to know
just who you are
once you grow out of those
bright yellow boots.



Brilliant Speed

This is wild,

Folding little clothes.

Laundry loads.

Baby soap.

Gummy grins.

Toothless smiles.

Skin on skin

To skinned knees.

Quick kisses,

They run away,

Just fine.

It’s brilliant speed.

And never getting pulled over.

And it’s madness.

And magic.

A high speed chase with time

That you lose,

And win

All at once.