I'd was your clothes, I'd sew and cook,
But when you'd bring your picture book
And ask 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
The picture books are put away
There are no childrens games to play
No good-night kiss, no prayers to hear
That all belongs to yesteryear
My hands once busy, now lie still
The days are long and hard to fill
I wish I might go back and do
The little things you asked me to
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
© 1999 E-MAIL ADDY UNDER HERE
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