Serena Malcolm

What would I trade for all the joys
of raising girls, of raising boys?
For all the sleepless nights and such?
For all the pain (there has been so much)?
For all the hugs and laughs and fun?
For the times I’ve all but given up?
For the times I’ve dreamed the ‘what could be?’
But feared the lack of strength in me?
For all the anger and sheer frustration
and the thanks for which I’m still here waiting?
For the times my heart has yearned to reveal
all the good – and bad – I feel?
For each loving,
precious,
healing
kiss?
There’s nothing that I’d trade for this.