my son is a better version of me

i easily break
he rides storms smilingly

i crumble in a crisis
he handles stoically

my emotions play loud on face
he hides it handsomely

i'm doubtful of exploring
he ventures courageously

i speculate on life too much
he bothers not seriously

Here the pines blush
in the cloud's embrace
the sky comes low
falls for earth's face

the winds kiss
long lines of wood
fog weaves dense
peace of solitude

Here the curves
meanders blind
on magical turns
stumbles mind

all inner demons
the high lands slay
on angel's wings
you fall love's prey.