POETRY FRIDAY:Poetry Stretch and Word of the Month

This week I participated in the The Miss Rumphius Monday Poetry Stretch. The challenge was to write a poem about time. I've been thinking about time a lot lately. You see, my first grandchild is due in May. I can't believe my son is going to be a dad. Not so long ago, he was a just baby himself. Okay, that was 31 yrs. ago, but it sure doesn't seem that long. He and his brother grew up much too fast. Now they are starting families of their own. What fantastic dads they're going be! This poem is for my son, Tim and his little one.

To My Unborn Grandchild

It wasn’t so long ago
that your daddy
was a baby—

my baby

Even before he was born
I knew I would love him
forever.

From the first time
the nurse placed
your daddy in my arms
I wished he would stay little,
forever.

I wanted to watch him sleep
and read him stories,
touch his tiny toes,
and listen to his first words
forever.

But only love lasts
forever—
babies grow up
much too fast
and soon your daddy
became a young man,
a young man
who dreamed of a baby
of his own.

Now he’s waiting
for you to arrive—
so he can watch you sleep
and read you stories,
touch your tiny toes
and listen to your first words.

He already knows
he’ll love you
forever

and
so will I.

Love, Grandma

You can read more of the "time" poems here.

I also wrote a poem for David L Harrison's Word of the Month challenge. The word this month is bone. There's still time to play. Check it out here.

I never knew my father, but I used to imagine the things we'd do together if he ever came back home. Somehow, even in my dreams, he never stayed.

Wishes

After dinner
Mom asked if I
wanted to break the
wishbone with her.

When I said, “No.”
She didn’t say anything
but I could tell
she was hurting.

I was hurting too
remembering how
you and I shared the wish-
bone every Thanksgiving.

You’d always laugh,
wrap your fingers tight
around your half
and pretend to snap it
before I was ready.

But then you’d
let me win
so I could make
my own special wish.

Well, I’m older now,
and since you left
wishbones
have lost their magic.

So what good are they?
Wishes don’t come true,
do they,
Dad?