Stolen Years
Posted: Sun May 08, 2011 9:33 am
I have had a look back and can't see where I have posted "Stolen Years" before... . So, being Mother's Day here it is.
Stolen Years.
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 01/08
I stand before this mirror and it’s something strange to see
for I don’t recognise the face that’s looking back at me.
It should be my reflection there or so we’re always told,
but I am not that wrinkled, not that grey and not that old.
Inside I feel I’m just the same, still seventeen, you see.
If I am that lined stranger there, who stole those years from me?
Was it a band of pilferers who crept into my flat
and stole from me my middle years. Ah, yes it must be that.
I do recall that several nights, when babies needed me
I didn’t sleep but sat all night with infant on my knee.
But that was just some nights I lost. I nursed you through your fears.
How come it is I find that I am missing sev’ral years.
I well remember hours spent, so still, beside your bed
caressing every precious curl that nestled on your head.
The time I gave up walking with you to and from your school
first one, then two, then three of you, ‘child safety’ was the rule.
But that was just a moment here, an hour there, a day
it didn’t really feel like years. How did they slip away?
As time moved on, on Saturday, when I took kids to sport
I’d think of things I’d like to do, but days were just too short.
In sun or rain or freezing wind, just watching you compete.
Then win or lose, some loving words to make the day complete.
They weren’t years that I spent then, just half of Saturday.
So where are all the stolen years? Who whisked them all away.
At night, I’d lie awake in bed, through teenage years and more
and wait for you to slip your key so softly in the door.
Then worrying as you grew up and helping with your quest,
career paths to shape your life, which calling fitted best.
You stood there in your wedding gown and I stood by your side.
To me, you were my little girl and not his blushing bride.
It feels like yesterday, I filled my final teenage year.
What happened to my twenties? When did thirties disappear?
I still remember golden years and now I’m into grey.
But where are all the stolen years I’ve lost along the way.
I think they’re wrapped in memories and stored within my heart
to resurrect in quiet times or when we are apart.
Then I will smile remembering the joy you gave to me
when still a babe and feeding, nestled safely on my knee.
To once again be holding fast a chubby little hand
and then let go as off you walk. (Mothers will understand)
So where are all the stolen years, the years ‘tween now and then?
Were they surrendered wisely? Where did they go, - and when?
I’m older now. My hair is grey. My life is soon complete.
Today I find it’s grandchildren who play around my feet.
and when they ask me “Grandma, what did you do with your life?”
I’ll tell them proudly, that I was a mother and a wife.
The years I can’t account for were so fast and full, it’s true.
I’ll say to them “the stolen years have been passed on to you.”
Stolen Years.
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 01/08
I stand before this mirror and it’s something strange to see
for I don’t recognise the face that’s looking back at me.
It should be my reflection there or so we’re always told,
but I am not that wrinkled, not that grey and not that old.
Inside I feel I’m just the same, still seventeen, you see.
If I am that lined stranger there, who stole those years from me?
Was it a band of pilferers who crept into my flat
and stole from me my middle years. Ah, yes it must be that.
I do recall that several nights, when babies needed me
I didn’t sleep but sat all night with infant on my knee.
But that was just some nights I lost. I nursed you through your fears.
How come it is I find that I am missing sev’ral years.
I well remember hours spent, so still, beside your bed
caressing every precious curl that nestled on your head.
The time I gave up walking with you to and from your school
first one, then two, then three of you, ‘child safety’ was the rule.
But that was just a moment here, an hour there, a day
it didn’t really feel like years. How did they slip away?
As time moved on, on Saturday, when I took kids to sport
I’d think of things I’d like to do, but days were just too short.
In sun or rain or freezing wind, just watching you compete.
Then win or lose, some loving words to make the day complete.
They weren’t years that I spent then, just half of Saturday.
So where are all the stolen years? Who whisked them all away.
At night, I’d lie awake in bed, through teenage years and more
and wait for you to slip your key so softly in the door.
Then worrying as you grew up and helping with your quest,
career paths to shape your life, which calling fitted best.
You stood there in your wedding gown and I stood by your side.
To me, you were my little girl and not his blushing bride.
It feels like yesterday, I filled my final teenage year.
What happened to my twenties? When did thirties disappear?
I still remember golden years and now I’m into grey.
But where are all the stolen years I’ve lost along the way.
I think they’re wrapped in memories and stored within my heart
to resurrect in quiet times or when we are apart.
Then I will smile remembering the joy you gave to me
when still a babe and feeding, nestled safely on my knee.
To once again be holding fast a chubby little hand
and then let go as off you walk. (Mothers will understand)
So where are all the stolen years, the years ‘tween now and then?
Were they surrendered wisely? Where did they go, - and when?
I’m older now. My hair is grey. My life is soon complete.
Today I find it’s grandchildren who play around my feet.
and when they ask me “Grandma, what did you do with your life?”
I’ll tell them proudly, that I was a mother and a wife.
The years I can’t account for were so fast and full, it’s true.
I’ll say to them “the stolen years have been passed on to you.”