by

Silverwolf ©



Watching your son play


I sit in our swing, lover,
Watching your son play.
I cared for him not, Tippy,
But with a mother’s love, he grew.
You would be proud.

He chases a butterfly
Over by your roses
So much like you did
While I’d watch and laugh
You would be proud

Racing now with Princess
A sleek, muscular frame
On your fine legs
Grinning with your smile
You would be proud

He notices me now
Feeling down, missing you
And leaps in my lap
Exuberance you seldom showed
But with your eyes
And a reassuring kiss

I watch our son playing, Tippy,
A tear in my eye
And I am so proud!


silverwolf



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