As he sleeps I stare into his face.
So much like my own except the absence.
Missing the years of guilt and pain
Minus wear & tear that my face parades
With the lackluster of fallen pride.
Void of sorrows & trials, missing the scars.
His face is that of an angels
Mine might have been the same
Some years past before life had hindered it.
He needs to be better than me
Stronger, brighter & improved.
Ever climbing higher, surpassing
Me, his Mother, & all those he holds dear.
Is it fair to have high expectations?
Is it wrong to wish for your child
To live the life you wanted?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.