My Son Poem by greg richardson
My Son
I saw you
once before
crouched beneath you bed
smiling there
I pulled you out
and ruffled your hair
my boy
I'll never leave you
nor you me
This is the meaning
of everything.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: hair
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8/28/2026 4:11:05 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
