That day I returned home from work early,
I was dog tired,
I had an awful headache.
As I drove into the drive way,
I saw my seven years old son,
I was aghast,
Oh Lord!
Was this my child?
He had dirt on his shirt,
Grass in his hair,
Mud in his boots,
His face was messy and his shorts torn.
As I stepped out of the car,
He ran towards me,delighted to see me home,
I was about to scream at him,
But held back.
Beneath the dirt,
My son glowed with happiness ,
For the first time he was not cooped up in his room,
Playing with his PlayStation.
He was breathing in fresh air,
Enjoying the warm summer day.
Dirt or no dirt I held him close,
I, too joined in the fun,
All my stress gone.
My son had found a new friend John,
And I, a son who now enjoyed outdoor games.
The next early morning I saw them looking for worms in the garden,
They were going fishing by the creek,
My little Mark Twain.
15/7/2019.