I am so glad he eats
By himself with no help.
Am glad he understands my words,
In languages two, maybe three.
Happy that my silence comprehended,
Though fleetingly vague.
Relieved his legs cover
Longer distances and farther every year.
His opinions and questions,
Curious and brash, unevenly.
I smile at the sound of toothbrush,
Without my ominous hollering.
Truly astounding that he walks
Home from class; by himself.
And when the clock hastily
Strikes the hour, he knows the cuckoo
Sings play, homework and sleep.
He buys his sweets and counting
The balance, smiles divinely
Pearly teeth and flourishing gaps.
Then why do I often smell him,
Inhaling the last of his innocence?
Why am I at peace when,
At times he pats my bosom,
Comforted in their protection?
Every giggle and laughter
Cherished and revered like never before,
A small sting at times that lullabies
Are no more requisite.
But he still hides his face in my
Chest when he cries.
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