Every day, I think of him.
I remember his sleek blonde hair.
The way he would swing his head to the music
And his flaxen locks would flow.
The way I would stroke his head
To comfort both him and I in troubled times.

Every day, I think of him.
I remember his dark blue eyes.
The way they twinkled when he was happy
And the way they cried for relief when he was ill.
The way he could look into your soul
And search for that special way to connect.

Every day, I think of him.
I remember his soft, pure skin.
The way it never changed as he grew older.
It was peaches and cream
And felt like silk to the touch.
It is one of the things I miss the most.

Every day, I think of him.
I remember how he would wrap himself around me in his sleep.
The way he was unable to accept closeness in the wake of day,
His will would give way to the love of a mother.
As I cradled him in my arms,
My heart would ache, knowing this was a fleeting moment.

Every day, I think of him.
I remember our life together.
The way we strengthened each other
To tackle whatever lie ahead.
The way we taught each other
The meaning of unconditional love and acceptance.

Every day, I think of him.
Every day, I miss him.
Every day, I love him.
Today, I honour him.