I wrote this poem when I was going through my philosophical phase.
The statement I am trying to make is no matter
how much you've
got you can still be sad or perhaps have
nothing and be happy.
Trying to hide your presents
Every year I would try
But you were so inquisitive
Even when hidden up so high
All part of the fun
As well as seeing your eyes agaze
When Christmas day upon us
You'd open your gifts with such amaze
You're both now growing up
But both still my little boys
The only difference is
Your presents are no longer toys
The joy of Christmas remains
As each year you grow to be
Fathers of your own little boys
Thats another present to me
Dedicated to my two boys Daniel and Adam.
I wrote this last year when I came to realise
that they aren't children any more.
They have grown up so quickly.
When I go off home
You wipe off all my prints
Till again once more
Your cupboard doors do glint
Each day I'm growing bigger
As days do come and go
And before you know it
There'll be grubby prints no more
So here for you to remember
Of times that have since passed
My hand prints are here forever
And these are here to last
This is about my daughter Summer when she visits
her nannan's homes.I know there is a poem similar
to this about but I couldn't find it anywhere, so I
made
my own up. You obviously have to include a print of
your childs hands with this poem.