Dayne at Ten

Posted: April 19, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Slick brown chest of muscles
where none have been before.
You are not my son.
You have moved beyond.
You are someone sullen; cocky –
Restless to be you.
Demanding freedom to grow up.
Pulling away from me.

But, at night,
sometimes,
you are mine again;
folding into the crook of my arm
as I sit on your bed and sing.
Your blonde head,
a stunning replica
of my little boy’s.

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Comments
  1. A touching and heartfelt write. Sad, sweet, and visually appealing. Great stuff. Thanks for sharing.

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