BABY SITTING KEAGAN
I’m baby sitting my son’s youngest little son,
It takes me back to when his life had begun,
Same features, and lips like a perfect bow,
Ready with a smile when in his view you go.
His son’s eyes may not turn quite as green,
For baby’s still young and true colour not seen,
But thinking back his eyes were a paler blue,
Turned out as the nicest green owned by very few.
As I hold this precious baby, each child is plain
And happy memories come back to my heart again,
But today it is much easier with diapers you see,
I had to wash terry towel ones, stinky as could be.
A row of white nappies hanging on the line to dry,
Praying that a rain storm does not come by,
Or it’s dry around the fire even on a hot summer day
If a rain shower came along to chase the sun away.
I can see each child reflected in each grandchild,
Especially when they are new born so very mild,
A bundle of sweet joy in my empty arms to hold,
Didn’t really mind all their nappies to wash and fold.
The only thing I complain about is they all grow too fast,
Just like I remember in my younger days now long past,
They don’t stay babies long enough, so every moment enjoy
Whether the child is a cute little girl or a handsome little boy.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson February 19, 2003