Mama, Don’t Forget Me

Folded clothes in a grocery bag

One small coat and a paper tag

Kitchen clock say it’s getting late

You say “hurry up

We can’t be late”

Mama

Don’t forget me

When the car pulls out the drive

When you’re laughing in the lights

And I’m not by your side

Mama

Don’t forget me

When my room is finally clean

I’m still here in every drawing

On the fridge you haven’t seen

You talk soft on a borrowed phone

Say you’re working to build a home

I trace lines on the window glass

Counting days that don’t seem to pass

Mama

Don’t forget me

When you sign another form

When they call me by a number

Like I’m lost inside a storm

Mama

Don’t forget me

If my face begins to blur

Every bedtime I am whispering

Every word you never heard

If I grow taller than the doorframe

If my voice don’t sound the same

Will you still see that little kid

In the photo that you saved?

Mama

Don’t forget me

When they say I’m doing fine

I still draw your name in margins

At the edges of my mind

Mama

Don’t forget me

If you’re tired

If you’re scared

I’ll be waiting where you left me

Just to know that you still cared