I've heard the stories of all the pain
Of birthing a child and raising him.
I have to ask, "What's that again?
I don't remember any pain."
I don't recall what went before
They brought my baby through the door.
They laid him there, right by my breast.
Every loving mother knows the rest.
Any thought of pain just went away.
The wonder I still feel today
Of holding him, my new born son,
In every way a perfect one.
I was on a cloud, not a narrow bed
As my hand caressed his downy head.
What is that you say? You ask again?
I don't remember any pain.
The years went by, too fast for me,
His first birthday, then two and three;
And then the years together ran.
Before I knew he was a man.
He chose the work he loved to do.
He married and had a family too.
I would like to have my boy again
But boy or man caused me no pain.
And now they say my son is gone,
I must find a way to carry on.
You ask me that question once again?
Oh yes, oh yes, now I know of pain.
By: Joyce Johnson
Copyright © Joyce Johnson