To My 7 Children Poem by David Lewis Paget

When you were young, as I recall,
I watched you grow, I watched you crawl,
You took your first few steps with me
And I was your security.

Though never rich, we plodded through
And loved each other, me and you,
We made do with the things we'd got
Though they were few, we'd not a lot.

A roof, good clothes, and you were fed,
You had warm blankets, and a bed,
While I did all that I could do
To keep you, and your mothers, too.

I worked and studied, called away
To try improve things, day by day,
But one by one your mothers left
And took you too, I was bereft.

I couldn't keep a wife, it seemed
They wanted more than I could scheme,
And so I paid the price in loss,
My children, left to count the cost.

But I stuck with you, thick and thin
I picked you up at each weekend,
I gave you all the love I had
And cried at night, when things were bad.

Those nights of empty cupboards, bare
With pockets full of plain, fresh air,
We'd cook up damper in the pan
And top it off with strawberry jam.

We'd play our games, sit in the gloom
Tell ghostly stories in our room,
Jump out in shadows, squeal in fright
And laugh and laugh 'til past midnight.

But you have grown, and judge me now
Say that I didn't care, somehow,
You never saw me when you slept
The nights that I just sat and wept.

I did my best, but now you say
That I lost touch along the way,
You moved, where I could not forsee
Both interstate, and overseas.

So now I'm just that sad old man
You left to shift, as best I can,
And though you still sit in my heart
The scars you left, tear me apart.

17 March 2009