Poetry Three

 

My Son One day he was but a small kick in my belly, moving all around, growing and waiting patiently for the day he would make his grand entrance to this world. One day he was in my arms, so soft and warm, while I would hold him tenderly and sing lullabies to him for his soft slumber. One day he was toddling around, touching, running, falling and getting into things he wasn’t really supposed to. His cheerful laughter would fill the rooms and his smile would brighten the darkest soul. One day he would enter into the school, where he would learn to read, wrtie and become a young man someday, all too soon. One day he would grow to be this young man and go to his firts dance. Dressing up so nicely and looking all too grown up, as though this had only taken place overnite, rahter than through many years of learning. One day he would look down upon me as he waved to catch a place, that would take him to his new beginning, to help erase his pain and sorrow, only to start over again, fresh and full of hope. One day he would stand tall and proud as he walked up to receive his diploma. Unleashing him from his many memory-filled days of school. One day he would smile openly, full of certainty, self-assurance and a real purpose of himself and the life that lie ahead of him. One day, he would be a man, my son.