Extended Nest Emptying

I don’t remember sadness when the nest
was emptying – I had so much to do,
there was no leisure for a heavy chest.
The kids were old enough, and able too.
I have some recollection of a fuss
I felt inside, when each was 6 or so,
and for the first time rode the yellow bus
to school, to hours I’d no longer know.

But nothing ever moved me like these days,
when someone I’ve attended twice a week,
and FaceTimed during quarantines, is old
enough to go to school, and often pays
a visit evenings with his parents’ clique.
I miss him now with pain I can’t withhold.

This entry was posted in Aging, Family, Love, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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