My Son Poem by Lata Dubey

My son sweet and sound,
A soul quite difficult to found,
With a face pretty and round
And eyes always to astound.
He believes in making queries
For he roams about in the world of fairies,
Gives me joys in ample measure,
To enrich and ennoble my pleasure,
And make immortal may days and treasure.
God! Do make him Great
So that I may thank you for ever
To count on my life as first rate,
And be always ready to welcome the call at your gate.