I should have held you longer, I should have held you tighter. When you were a baby, I rocked you to sleep and put you down because there was work to be done, but I should have held you longer, I should have held you tighter because I can’t hold you anymore. Then you were a toddler; you wanted to squirm and run, so I put you down because you wanted to go have fun; but I should have held you longer, I should have held you tighter because I can’t hold you anymore. You grew and became a little boy, and the times I could hold you became less and less but still so dear. I should have held you longer, I should have held you tighter because I can’t hold you anymore. You grew to be a young man. I wanted to hold you near but you just wanted to run clear. But I should have held you longer, I should have held you tighter; I had no idea I wasn’t going to hold you anymore. Now I hold you longer, tighter in my heart for all eternity, wishing and wanting more…until I hold you again. By, Annette G. Mahan