Our Son

I want to hold you,
But you’re almost my size.
With your father’s hair,
And Papa’s eyes.

You’re big and rough,
And strong and loud.
You make me and your father very proud.

When you changed from a baby
I do not know.
Though I’ve been there every second,
To watch you grow.

You surprise us and shock us every day.
We are in awe sometimes,
By the things you say.

In too few years,
You will be a man.
Just follow careful,
To God’s great plan.

And know at sunset,
When each day is done,
We are always proud of you our son.

J’Rie B. Elliott is a poetess and ongoing contributor of Synchronized Chaos. To contact her, send an email to dixiepoet@gmail.com.