When All of Our Children are Married and Gone…by Robert M. Katzman
(originally written in 1995, it has since been published in my second book, Escaping and Embracing the Cops of Chicago, in 2004)
When all of our children are married and gone
Our old home will be ours alone
No more towels and coats and books on the floor
We regain possession of the phone
No more lizards, newts, turtles and snakes
No more dogs, parrots and cats
Our private zoo will have slithered away
Of sure, we’ll miss all of that
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No more science fairs or report cards
No more Sunday rides to somewhere
No more fairy tales to read, or swings to push
Guess we’ll be the only ones there
You’ve arrived where we wanted to send you
No more upheavals, crisis or riot
We’re so happy you’re all married and gone
We didn’t know it would be…so quiet
We enjoy our run of the house now
But your pictures are all around
At seven, eleven and twenty-one
Sweet faces, but nary a sound
We know you’re all grown up and on your own
But your Mom and Dad will always care
If you bruise your knee or bruise your heart
Remember, we’ll always be there
So, we sat and talked it over
Though you’d say we weren’t the type
Much as we love our big silent house…
We’d sure like a new nose to wipe
Maybe a little bottom to powder
Or a little hand to hold at the zoo
Don’t think of this as pressure at all
But…see what you can do
In a classic case of irony, this poem was written by me as a toast for my sister-in-law’s third and last child to be married, seventeen years ago. But the very next couple to have another child…was us…when a baby was left at our house. We have since learned, that anything is possible.  I don’t think I have yet recovered from this cosmic coincidence. I never will.