Short Hours

by eldrum

If I could pick them up one more time
Sing them that one last rhyme
Would that fill the empty hours?
To hear them giggle in the bedroom
Or fighting over Doom
Would that fill my empty hours?
Helping them build a tent
Was that heaven sent?
Then, there were no empty hours.
Baking cookies and slapping her brother
With the mixing spoon, as if she were his mother
To soon went those hours.
I want them back
Those short
Hours.