There is a baby hand
Who doesn’t care
Who I’ve been today
She holds me
I cradle her
As she nurses against my heart
Her mind recalls the lessons
And eyelids grow heavy with knowledge
She is teacher
I can’t keep up
My prayer is another tomorrow.
Unlearning
Confessions of a Scholar Mom
Wow – such beautiful poetry in heart and words. Truly love this and hope you receive many more likes. It truly is worthy.
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Thank you for your kind words! I’m so glad you were able to find a connection.
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Being a mom it is easy
Mine are a bit older (my youngest is now 5) but I do remember. Thank you for sharing!
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This is wonderful. I always say that I expected to be the teacher in this lovely relationship I have with my son but turns out I’m the student❤
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