Where have you gone, my little one?
Where have you gone, my modest son?
Once you were small, the most tiny gnome.
Now I peek around: Where have you gone?
Once your fingers were pickles,
and so were your toes.
You once had minute freckles
on the bridge of your nose.
But you kept growing out of your clothes.
A diaper, a shirt, some hose.
God, how you could grow.
Where did you go?
12 comments:
Beautifully said, Larry. Very nice!
http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/10/12/foobaw-daddy-foobaw/
I like the sense of loss here, the loss of a childhood. It shows the almost bittersweet nature of being a parent.
Came here from Bluebell Books.
Jamie
super sweet,
a father's love could be tender and beautiful as it is supposed to be.
super sweet,
a father's love could be tender and beautiful as it is supposed to be.
super sweet,
a father's love could be tender and beautiful as it is supposed to be.
our sons are like two different people in our lives, the little boys that followed us around like puppies and then the young men we can talk to like friends.
Where does the time go? A lovely piece which I really enjoyed. Thank you.
amazing showcase of father's love.
smiles.
Love the music, love the photo, love-love-love the poem. Where did he go?
True - how we lose that child-like innocence and wonder when we grow:)
very nice and so beautifully said
http://gatelesspassage.com/2011/10/17/to-my-son/
So sweet... :-)
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