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Dear Child,

 

it’s not the toys i wrap
nor the bread i bake
the laundry i fold
nor the beds i make

it’s not the things i do
i do
i do
God, i don’t stop doing

i see
i see
it’s the time i give
to see you

so many days my eyes are fixed upon the work
that is not my greatest work

i know
i know
it’s the time i give
to know you

so many days my mind is overfilled
with things I shouldn’t mind

i hear
i hear
it’s the time i give
to listen

so many days i speak too much
and let your words go missing

but I have one thing more to say:

 

your words –

speak them always in your heart
they are yours
and yours deserving
though mine and many ears won’t hear
in the hustle of hurry –

keep them coming.

your dances –

though few will see them
or understand their beat
persist with arms pumping
and the stomping of your feet

keep on moving.

your gifts –

cannot be undone by others’ doing
cannot be forgot by others’ ignoring
cannot be lessened by lesser men
and cannot be known if you don’t show them

keep them going

out of you and on

and on

and on

and on

like the time
we all
must give.

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