As a child I'd color on this oak;
Time-outs, lunches, and puzzles.
The addition was forever,
But I've grown older.

As a girl I'd daydream on this oak;
Boy bands, barbies, and babies.
The multiplication would never end,
But I've grown up.

As a rebel I'd talk to boys on this oak;
Tears, make-up, and friends.
The algebra was everlasting,
But I've grown fuller

As a wife I'd write out thank-yous on this oak;
Ribbons, boxes, and papers.
The numbers clutter the mind,
But I've grown wiser

As a mother I'd teach them to color on this oak;
Time outs, lunches, and puzzles.
The digits were infinite.
But I'm fully grown.

As a grandmother I still color on this oak.
Tears, daydreams, and conversations consume me.
And I still struggle with math.
This sturdy desk is all I have.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...