Labor Pains

I watched you from the dusty window.
I watched you from across the street.
The roar from the mower came through to me
above the chatter from the TV.
I wondered why you were outside,
playing in the fresh grass
instead of inside playing with me.
Your arms flexed as you pushed a car
across the church's front yard.
I tried to tell you,
'just let the grass grow'
but you didn't listen.
Years have gone by, and now I am you,
cutting my church's grass
to make the church look like new.