At times that crying boy
can be like bottled joy.
A most unlikely teacher
turns me into a preacher,
while teaching parents on the job,
he soon calls Dad not Dad but Bob.
As he grows tall and confident
Bob wonders where the decades went.
First girlfriend does elicit wince
as fades your own significance.
The word redundance comes to mind,
you sit and ponder, left behind,
what will the world mean to your lad
and should you help, as you're the Dad.
The horseman asks to hold him back
or spoon him up, right down the track.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's always tough to let the kids go and start their own lives. We take a back seat to their friends, and then their spouses, but always we hold a special place in their hearts. Maybe not always apparent, but the love is there. (no pun intended!) Thought-provoking read, Herbert, and one all parents will identify with. Linda