Seeing my children
Grow up and leave home
Watching my heart walk out the door
Living lives I'm not a part of
Raising children of their own.
Living with my husband
For forty years
Watching my identity dressed in men's clothes
Relaxed in sweats
Stiffened in starched shirts.
Crawling into my affections
Watching my joy wrapped in softness
When my parents passed away
I realized my own days are numbered.
Our times together much too short,
These people, my family, have carved a place
Way deep inside
And become a part of me.