A Son - By Art Hyde
My son is precious,
full of hope, yet sorrow.
My son is me,
relived with all I’ve grown to be.
By my mistakes and triumphs,
we share our future’s destiny.
I proudly watch him live each day,
less to compare him as I see.
He steps away,
then back once more,
to take another look at me.
Standing near in silence,
watching invisibly,
I see this man has grown with talent,
home at last – expectancy.
My eyes now open,
seeing clearly,
he invents uniquely,
as only he can – individually.
He will live past my tomorrows,
my love eternally,
Sharing with his sons he’ll borrow,
all those things that were good bought me.
My smile he’ll see on his son’s face,
my laughter fines it’s way in space,
so close yet far from my embrace.
So tenderly my intent to make,
a lesson in love someday to see.
Art Hyde
Copyright 2009
