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Daddy to Son
By Malar Tamil
21st CenturyYou are born.
Born to me you are fortunate
I am pregnant with endless poems.
Poems you speak spark meaningless words,
Kindle forgone days all along reminding
What I thought when my brain was tender.
Tender and cute your smile,
No teeth but so bright as if
Your shining face is bleaching the nights
And a moving moon, decorating the days.
Days of my childhood not meant to return
Are hidden in you, brought back
Whenever you wet my clothes
I can patent in Paris, market for millions,
But won't do for every drop of you, I possess.
Possess the universe in return for you?
Never, that might be unfair a business.
We, the sellers and buyers ourselves:
Exchange touches, hugs, kisses, plays and time
Suddenly you shorten my days to just twelve hours
Shrinking my seconds sowing the seeds to cherish.
Cherish these moments, you may not remember,
Like a teacher forgetting one of his thousand pupils.
But you too a fertile land will write at least one poem.
Now as a shepherd and sheep seeking pasture
Let us together go in the milky ways and beyond,
Leading and feeding without being lost,
Until I turn a grandfather and see a daddy, You
DayPoems Poem No. 2292
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The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2005 by Timothy K. Bovee. All rights reserved.
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