Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone. It's all
over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall
in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet
talker on his way to jail. And you,
your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue
nothing. You did, you loved, your feet
are sore. It's dusk. Your daughter's tall.
-Thomas Lux
I comment first, yes, on my own blog, to say I love this poem, and my babe got his first tooth today. I'm not necessarily feeling the sentiments of Thomas Lux, but it was what popped into my head. And it's so nicely written it deserves to have space all it's own without my asides.
ReplyDeleteIt is a fantastic poem. I love the "you did, you loved, your feet are sore" line best.
ReplyDeleteI'm feeling growing pains of a sort as I watch my baby (my last) grow out of little outfits. I tuck them in the box and think: who am I saving these for? My grandchildren? Eeeek.
I like that poem. I can't believe he already has his first tooth!
ReplyDeletethey grow up so fast, my post was about teeth too (errrr, well the tooth fairy, but still similary none the less)
ReplyDeleteA beautiful thought, it's hard to believe my oldest is in middle school! Speaking of which, she thought it was very cool about your husband and D.C.
ReplyDelete