Poetry: My Son

I originally posted this piece about a year ago, but I was inspired to repost it thanks to Chelsea Owens’ excellent post about writing good poetry. If you have poetry in your blood, I encourage you to take a look at her post, and be inspired to create (or re-create) your own piece. Bring on the honest critiques!


My Son

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.

7 thoughts on “Poetry: My Son”

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