Today I held your hand,
And instantly my mind flashed back
To the first time I saw
Your tiny clenched fists.
The hands that gripped my finger
Later by trial and error reached out
To touch a toy mobile
As if reaching for the moon.
Those hands eventually learned how
To pay my face, or grasp my hair, not letting go
And clapped to made up songs
Sung to made up tunes.
Eventually, you could hold a spoon
And guide it to your mouth.
The same hand would wave "ta-ta"
As I pretended to go.
Outstretched you reached for me
To guide hesitant steps
Towards armfuls of waiting hugs and kisses
Your cherished deserving prize
Little fingers follow words and pictures
From endless repeated stories
Later, you are the one reading to me
This time, it is your hand that turns the pages.
Such busy hands; always finding something to do,
Yesterday, they held Lego bricks; a puzzle piece or two.
Today, it's paper, pencils, pens,
Paint and glitter glue.
As I walk along, I remember
What holding your hand means to me
While we walk and talk
My happiness and sadness, agree to co-exist.
I am happy, because you still need me to hold your hand and sad as I wonder
How much longer we can have of
Warm, safe, hand-holding bliss.
Today, I held your hand,
Tomorrow, you may be holding mine
One more time;
As I say my last goodbye.
By Karen Plumb
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