Sixteen

Born to us a most beautiful son
With the clearest eyes so large, so grey
And skin pink as a satin rose kissed
So softly by the early morning sun

Weeping was I for every mother
Who never would have a chance to know
The wonder of an infant fair and full of grace
As my son was, a son in perfect form

Breath so warm, so filled with scent
As sweet as golden honey
Escaping from the plumpest lips
Red as a ripened summer plum

Perfect fingers, perfect toes; ten in all
Counted over and again until I was sure
That God had not forgotten even one
So tiny yet so lovely, so soft, so real

Every cry he shared broke my fractured heart
Each tear seared my softened soul
My son, this little form had altered my existence
Transformed my reality; my world

Years pass us by so quickly, without seeing
Without knowing that they have until
You look and the infant is no more
And he is grown, and he’s a man

My son, a most beautiful man
His eyes so large, so clear and grey
Weathered skin, tanned and lovely still
Perfect form as he walks away- sixteen.