Little son
can you hear me?
Can you see the sun rising?
Rubbing the night right out of his eyes,
stretching and yawning
and crawling out of bed
to hold you in his arms;
shining through the clouds and cobwebs -
Splashing onto the horizon
Bursting into my veins
with rays of laughter
sprinkled like sugar on my soul
Little sun,
dancing in the twilight,
reflecting off of the ocean
and into my eyes;
Deliver me to the dew dropped lips of your smile,
shelter me in the warmth of your glare,
lift me to the mirror in your heart
so I may see myself again
In you
My son
Little son
can you hear me?
Can you see the sun setting?
Letting go of the dusk with a shrug and a sigh,
kissing the moon so the night doesn't cry,
reaching for a blanket to comfort the sky -
Stretching and yawning
Whispering and crawling
into bed,
to hold you in his arms.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
Little son
can you hear me?
Can you see the sun rising?
Rubbing the night right out of his eyes,
stretching and yawning
and crawling out of bed
to hold you in his arms;
shining through the clouds and cobwebs -
Splashing onto the horizon
Bursting into my veins
with rays of laughter
sprinkled like sugar on my soul
Little sun,
dancing in the twilight,
reflecting off of the ocean
and into my eyes;
Deliver me to the dew dropped lips of your smile,
shelter me in the warmth of your glare,
lift me to the mirror in your heart
so I may see myself again
In you
My son
Little son
can you hear me?
Can you see the sun setting?
Letting go of the dusk with a shrug and a sigh,
kissing the moon so the night doesn't cry,
reaching for a blanket to comfort the sky -
Stretching and yawning
Whispering and crawling
into bed,
to hold you in his arms.
For my youngest son, Tristan, who is now 13. Written 3/15/2003, when he was 3.
