In the darkest hour of the night
My little girl awoke with fright.
I sang a song and held her tight,
While she held Mommy's hand.
My son is growing independent
And faces the world so confident,
But when strangeness makes him diffident,
He reaches out for Mommy's hand.
As fever ravaged his tiny body
With chills that make the strong grow weary
Sleep came when he held fondly
The soothing touch of Mommy's hand.
My daughter is still crawling around
My son runs to sight and sound
When they wish to share what they have found
Then they tug on Mommy's hand.
Right now they cannot communicate
With words, they simply indicate
Their love, by hands reaching do state
"Mommy, hold my hand."
In that gesture I see their trust
That I am doing what mothers must;
At any time or place or fuss
Mommy will hold their hand.
By Caitlin Mallery