A memory card

I wish my heart had a memory card,

an internal hard drive, if you will.

So one day I could click "open memory,"

and feel the sweetness of it still.

These days are passing way too quickly,

blowing past me in a blur.

Although right now they're crazy,

I'll miss them one day I'm sure.

The way her hair sticks straight up

when she first climbs out of bed.

She loves to sneak up on me sipping my coffee,

and kiss me on my head.

That sweet sound of him yelling, "mamamama" from his crib,

where he sleeps like such a big boy,

and then we sit and share breakfast,

speaking of sunshine, birdies, and toys.

The way she asks me everyday 

if I'll "snuggle her a while."

Oh, how I long to save that feeling

in my heart's own special file.

The way he toddles around the house

like he just got off a horse.

One day he'll run right by me,

chasing another girl of course.

And oh the way my babies love 

and hold each other tight.

These days of playing and snuggling will soon be

"he's annoying me" fights.

The way they squeal and their faces light up

when daddy comes home at last.

One day I'll be his only greeter,

and it's coming all too fast.

Dinner time consists of sharing my food

and wiping ketchup off a squishy face,

but one day soon our table will surely become

a very quiet place.

The way they love to take a bath,

they splash and have a ball.

Soon they'll take 3 showers a day,

and won't need my help at all.

And then the way I hold them

as we all prepare for bed.

She has to have my arm around her,

and he likes me rubbing his head.

I'm trying so desperately to soak it up

and really take them in.

But oh, to have that memory card,

so I could feel this way once again.