Wheels

I picked up shoes and rumpled clothes;
cleared out the toys beneath your bed;
my arms packed full of little wheels;
an array of colors, white to red.

I grasped the tiny cars and trucks,
wondering which one won the race today;
and suddenly I've journeyed off
to somewhere far away.

I picture you so tall and grown;
your sights on cars of bigger size;
on new and grand endeavors;
independence in your eyes.

A wider stride with faster pace;
off to places on your own;
while I watch from the doorway
at the man in which you've grown.

From somewhere deep I feel the ache
of losing something dear;
then shake my head to bring me back
to see you playing here.

I hope that my own harried life
allows the time I need;
to show you life is better spent
traveled in leisure, not in speed.

But down the road I'll watch you go
in full size tires and chrome.
Please travel safe and don't forget
that same road brings you home.

7/12/00