Distant Thought

For the nine months I carried you in my womb filled with warmth untold. For the pain of child-birth borne for you... You cannot pay me with silver and gold. For the dreary nights I could not sleep because you were yelling and feeling cold. For the prayer-vigils I had to keep... You cannot pay me with silver and gold. For the tough toils and timely tears that my hands and eyes could not withold. For your flimsy falls that caused me fears; you cannot pay me with silver and gold. ...And when you began to walk and talk, thinking you were brainy and bold. For the times I had roam and stalk; you cannot pay me with silver and gold. For the words of advice and knowledge that kept you growing in God's fold. For the cost of creche and college; you cannot pay me with silver and gold. For the clothes, shoes and great meals... feelings that cannot be bought or sold. Son, to add all these up is a great deal; you cannot pay me with silver and gold.