Poem about children growing up and leaving home
Anyone who has teenagers knows the sadness of their leaving to start their own home.
For parents with children the advice is clear: play with your kids; spend time doing things together — today!
This is a poem I wrote for my son, whom I love dearly.
Cleaning the Workshop
The time has come to clean the room.
To move big pieces and use the broom.
And lift the layers time has spread
Which spin back memories through my head.
Against the wall a wooden box
Raised up on legs with screws is locked.
And on the front my son’s full name
By his own hand it does proclaim.
And there within a child’s treasure:
Bits cut from wood without a measure.
Tiny tools for a young hand
That now belongs to a young man.
How long these treasures lay in dust,
His interests elsewhere but here I touch
The time we shared and built a toy
When I was the father of a small boy.
I clean the box and throw out strings
That may have been the start of things.
I keep the projects that have shape
And with a camera a shot I take.
I miss that boy and the simpler times
When shapes and tools were on his mind.
But here’s his hammer in my big hand.
From the things we built we made a man.
By Rob Hueniken
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