| Baby Clothes Down from the attic you brought the box of baby clothes: the little socks, the onesies, and something like a suit, plus Great-Grandma's hand-knit booties. After they'd been washed and dried, Miles wanted to fold them all for his future sibling. How small they were we had forgotten. "Time flies," they say. "Don't kids grow up so fast?" But no, each day had seemed to last and last (even if he did outgrow his favorite things). How long ago it seemed that Miles had been born, how long those clothes had been unworn. |
Andrew Shields
If you've any comments on this poem, Andrew Shields would be
pleased to hear from you.
