When you were born, I welcomed you
with a kiss on the forehead and a hug hello.
We sang and read and talked and rhymed,
“this little piggy” and a kiss on the toe.
We played and giggled and tickled and laughed
with a kiss on the tummy and a prrrrp.
Along the way there were bumps and scrapes and scratches and fevers
and even a kiss on a bruised elbow.
Requests for tatoos and piercings, dyed hair;
I kissed you on the hand and just said, “Oh?”
There were times of great joy and arguments too;
I kissed you on the cheek and felt like your foe.
Behind the wheel of a car you jumped,
I blew you a kiss and wearily sighed, “Whoa!”
You’re out the door and on your own;
I long to kiss you on the forehead as I let you go.