There once was a time when a little boy’s face, would use my lap as a resting place.
The touch of his hair, the smell of his brow, was something I cherished back then and now. His skin soft and tender and eyes so bright. He looked at me special for I was his light.
The times they were unique for this mother and son. The games, talks and yes, that old tickle bug!
The older he got, the better I thought.
His numerous qualities and such a good sport. He gave me some trouble, but all children do, but I was prepared because I was cool.
He called me his hero, that’s what he had said, some nights when I tucked him into his bed. He seemed to adore me and not throw out blame, for many disappointments came by to stake claim.
He would introduce me with only respect, even though I owed him a very big debt. For not being able to give him a Dad, I spent many times feeling guilty and sad.
He managed to sprout and not once did he fall. He kept true to his spirit, in spite of it all. His character strong, his faith so assiduous,
he gives back to me to keep me continuous.
Even at times when the strong wind would blow, and take him to places he needed not go, a soft breeze would fetch him to give me a chance, to let me feel needed and teach him to dance.
He had a big heart and bountiful love,
to all of his friends and that “baseball glove.”
He would stop me abruptly for no reason at all, and say the right things to make my heart fall. It fell so hard, but not that it hurt.
Just softly, he’d snatched it.
“That little flirt”.
I loved all the years and they did jet by. It went by too quickly, sometimes I could cry.
I hope that those memories never erase,
the feeling of love from that little boy’s face. Because fate has claimed him to another place.
Today I look down and I see only space
Just wanted to add a comment to this poem that this loss is a loss of a child from a boy to man. So it is bittersweet and I apologize if it gives the wrong impression that my boy is not around. Lee
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
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