Little Things

I read this poem and was convicted of the times I have said, “a little later”.  Life really is to short to say this.  I pray we take the time to listen to the stories they tell, to read that book one more time to a little one, to play that board game, to seize the moment. Moments are fleeting.  May we make each one count!

My hands were busy through the day

I didn’t have much time to play

The little games you asked me to.

I didn’t have much time for you.

I’d wash your clothes; I’d sew and cook,

But when you’d bring your picture book

And asked me please to share your fun,

I’d say “A little later, son.”

I’d tuck you in all safe at night

And hear your prayers, turn out the light,

Then tiptoe softly to the door…

I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

For life is short, the years rush past…

A little boy grows up so fast.

No longer is he at your side,

His precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away;

There are no longer games to play.

No good-night kiss, no prayers to hear,

That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands, once busy, now are still.

The days are long and hard to fill.

I wish I could go back and do

The little things you asked me to!