The sound of those tiny feet
Have become footsteps of adults
Though you are not here
We all wish you were
Days have turned months now
And those months have become years
Some things we try to remember
Others we wish we could forget
Your voice sometimes still echoes
Calling away from too much play
You made sure we knew then
It was necessary to obey
Your children are all grown now
Be assured where you are
That though we cannot see mom
We act like yours that we are.
Tola (2008)
