A poem

My mom wrote the following poem just yesterday in a quick email to me. She meant it to be about my girls, but turned out to kind of be about me. I thought it was nothing short of the most beautiful thing I've heard in forever.

Time
steals procrastination's flotsam,
it sucks up the baby smells,
it sweeps away the innocent laughter,
it reveals the clumsy stalks growing on windswept hillsides,
it hides the emerging essence,
it draws forth unspeakable wonder,
it wraps gently all the memories I hold to in my deep room,
it opens my eyes after a blink to behold the very desire of my heart standing tall and graceful,
with young beauties of her own,
and it makes me weep
and wonder.
And my arms cannot hold the vision, my hearts fail to comprehend.
My voice stilled in the mist.
Love is a small word these days.