She fills the sink till the bubbles rise
She washes the dishes and she sighs
Just like her dreams, the bubbles pop
and disappear,
till she is left
with only her fears
Baby is pulling at her knee
She picks him up, and twirls him, weeeeee…
The radio is playing its musical fantasy
Vibrating the air
And in the kitchen, there
She dances with baby on her hip
And because she loves
The laughter on his sweet face
She makes herself content to wait
For the dreams she knows she needs
To make her life complete
And so, she dances with baby on her hip
They twirl around and around
Speaking words that make no sound
Kathy Lauren Miller 
Beautiful images of mother and baby.
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Thank you for liking this poem. I wrote it years ago when my son was a baby. Dancing with him in my arms is a memory I’ll always have.
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I have similar memories. They are priceless💖
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Hi Luccia, yes, these memories we cherish.
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Lovely! Brings back memories – mine are 13 and 16 now. Still hold them sometimes with these memories. Now I understand why my mother still says – you’ll always be my baby.
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Hi Jackie, yes, they grow up so fast. We must hold on to the memories. They are always our babies.
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