The fleeting song was being passed from anxious heart to pen,
But the solitude was invaded when chubby hands pressed in.
My thoughts were lost by curious whys. Muffled chords were all I heard.
My toddler needed drinks and demanded an approving word.
And, in the end, I’m sad to say, the song was gone–unwritten and forgotten.
I felt a loss, as of a parting friend who gives no promise of return.
Perhaps the time just isn’t now for serene creative days.
No time to shape the feelings into prose or song today.
For now’s the time for gathering and storing feelings in the heart.
The day will come when silent days will release the pent up song with uninterrupted art.
And I will talk of days gone by and wish for chubby hands now gone,
And miss the constant whys and wheres that often stopped my song.
Oh may I see the season now as one for storing in
A fleeting thought, a look, or a mischievious grin,
That when the season comes to share
There may be something there.
The Song
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Thanks. Years ago, I was too busy with kids to do something like this, and now, I can talk about how great it was to be with the kids!
I like this. It makes me think about being in the moment and loving the people you have in your life. And you are creative and artistic too. So it makes me share in the loss that you felt.