He wakes me bright and early every morn,
'Tis his hunger, for which he is torn.
So beautifully cradled, so lovingly raised,
'Tis no wonder to God, for mothers we praise.
So dear, so beloved, so perfectly smitten,
If he were a score, he'd be the finest ever written.
That thoughtful pause, that longing gaze,
Never ever ceases to amaze.
That ray of sun, creeping through the curtain ajar,
Such a kaleidoscope spectacle, can be seen from afar.
The radiance, the warmth, the ever felt glow,
So majestic but oh so very humble.
Twinkle, that magic in his eye, golden mane,
So much anger and yet so tame.
As I grow old and time passes by,
In his hands, the reins shall lie.
From a father to a son, whom I dearly cherish,
Thoughts never die, while the body will surely perish.
Love Poem To A Son On His First Birthday
Through The Eyes Of A Father
Published by Family Friend Poems February 2014 with permission of the Author.
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