My brood

My little boy no longer, but a man,

I wonder at his strength, of many kinds,

Such as the gift of writing that he can

Use subtly to capture people’s minds.

His songs, his tales, his poetry just soars

And frees me from the mundane and the dull,

He turns a laughing eye upon my flaws

And makes my glass perpetually full.

 

So many times I look at him and see

The tiny child that clung onto my hand

Who’s still inside the man in front of me,

To whom I tilt my head up as I stand.

I see his skills and know he will achieve

Those things that form the substance of his dreams,

And all who watch him work also believe

That he will be the master of life’s schemes.

 

She’s full of life and promise, on her way

To a future of her own unbound design.

She says things I would never think to say

I don’t know how I dare to call her mine.

She makes me laugh too often to recall

The words she twists and turns to make her own.

She leaps with style although she  fears the fall.

She’s not a sheep, It’s she who sets her tone.

 

My little one, the baby of my four,

Displays to all the world a certain grace.

A dancer who can halt the room before

Her as she sets a sweet and measured pace.

She’s finding where she fits as time goes by

By trying every chance that wanders in,

By asking what and when and where and why

And when it’s time she lets the song begin.

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4 thoughts on “My brood

  1. If this is the reason why your children are embarrassed by you, then a better reason I’ve never seen ^-^ I heard this as a very musical, almost slam-poetry (but much gentler!) presentation in my head – the rhythm is every bit as beautiful as the content. Being a son myself, those first two stanzas in particular spoke to me, if in an odd, removed sort of way, especially “The tiny child that clung onto my hand / Who’s still inside the man in front of me, / To whom I tilt my head up as I stand.” That is so poignant… Thank you for sharing this!

    • Thank you for your moving comment. I have written songs for a long time so much of my poetry tends to the rhythmic. I appreciate your insight. Good luck with your travels in France. 🙂

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