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My Son He is big and strong, almost a man I try to let him spread his wings, To be as free as my heart allows But when I look upon his face, Its not the man I see, It's my son, my "Little Man", My beautiful baby. The baby he has not been for so long I envision in my mind When he wants the car And the girls call, Oh where has my baby gone? As I look up into his face, The face that I love I close my eyes and pray Keep him safe, keep him strong, Keep him by my side. But as the prayer leaves my lips I know it is a lie For by my side he can not stay He must spread his wings to fly Strength for me is what I pray On the day he does take flight. |
Additional Notes:
This is one of my few attempts at writing a poem that doesn't rhyme all the way down. But my whole heart is there, even if my rhym is not. My six foot two, 248 pound 16 year old is my whole world and I will be utterly alone the day he does take flight.
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