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Poetry by Rachel A. Gold
Rachel and Richard

Son

by Rachel A. Gold

He's one year old; he's growing up!
he has six teeth, and he can walk;
He drinks milk-sometimes-from his cup
And talks in one-word sentences!

Now school, for he is six this year;
I walked with him this starting day--
Oh, he was brave--he shed no tear,
But held my hand so tight, 'twas numb!

And how the years fly! How he's ten;
Today the first he worked for pay.
he mowed the neighbor's lawn and then
Came proudly to me, cash in hand!

And now sixteen, and his first date
For which he used the family car;
He promised not to be too late--
I'm glad to say he kept his word.

And now he almost is a man;
He's tall and strong and very kind--
I store each memory while I can,
He will be gone so very soon.

Growing up--
Drinks from cup--
Six this year--
Not a tear--
When was ten
Mowed lawn then--
Sixteen, date--
Was not late--
Almost man--
Memories--memories--

I store them while I can.

Poetry by Rachel A Gold


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Tuesday, 04-May-2010 14:48:33 EDT