My Son

As always, I appreciate your comments and critiques. Thank you for taking time to read today’s piece.


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He walks away from me.

I see my father in his height and stride,

Limbs all long and lean,

Bones growing exponentially daily,

The rest of him struggling mightily

To match in depth

His sudden length.

 

He seems a flagpole of a boy,

Straight and skyward,

Flexible yet fragile (if bent too far),

Bearing the promise of meaningful things

Yet to be unfurled in the wind.

 

He turns back to me for a moment.

I see my husband in the flash of his smile,

Quick to come,

As quick to fade,

Leaving behind a solemn-eyed gaze

That has always been

All his own.


 

because home wasn't built in a day“My Son,” copyright 2018, Meredith Jackson.

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