GROWN UP

Never again will you fall asleep across my chest on a Sunday afternoon.

Never again will I break off pieces of a bagel and feed you in the park.

Never again will I run bath water for you or wrap you in a towel.

Never again will you hide at the end of the sofa and shout, “Here I are!”

Never again will I carry you inside the house from the backseat of the car,

Never again will we stand in the store deciding which Hot Wheels to buy.

Never again will you want a kiss on your forehead as you fall off to sleep.

Never again will you call out in the night because you’re afraid of Orcs.

Never again will you choose the left hand or right hand for a piece of candy.

Never again will we walk to our table in the diner with my arm around you.

Never again will we drive to the farm to look at baby pigs and little lambs.

Never again will you ask me the name of flowers, birds, and other animals.

Never again will we listen to the same songs or share the same music.

Never again will you dress up as a pirate, a cowboy, or a warrior.

Never again will you sing Go Tell It on the Mountain at the top of your lungs.

Never again will I buy you plastic ninja swords from the Dollar Store.

Never again will we play army men on the floor or Lego Racers.

Never again will we share Cracker Jack and cotton candy at the circus.

Never again will you ask for a glass of water before going to bed.

Never again will you choose a new Pez dispenser at the grocery store.

Never again will we lie alongside each other and take turns reading.

Never again will I draw a happy face or a soccer ball on your lunch bag.

Never again will I put your clothes out for you on the edge of your bed.

Never again will you say to me, “Hey Dad, hold me like a baby”.