Array ( [sid] => 45698 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => 13 [time] => 2004-05-01 07:27:00 [hometext] => To my son, Mikey. Please stop growing-up...I'll miss you, Dad. [bodytext] => From under a mop of defiantely straight hair
Brown eyes flash along with an infectious smile
The voice quavers with fast-approaching manhood

In a too-big Tee-shirt that drapes past hips
And month-old pants that no longer reach where they should
A mercurial "Bye, love ya" fades in a dash through the door

"Where're ya headed?", is all I can manage
As I watch after the disappearing gangliness
"To the store...back soon" is the distant over-the- shoulder reply

"Take care and stay safe" - just thoughts now
Whatever happened to my 'little helper', I wonder
Did he really have to grow up

Back now with just purchased sugary treats
My "I'm not a little kid" selflessly shares with younger brother
As the two lay sprawled in front of the T.V.

Despite "Aw, dad" protests while trashing wrappers
I manage to finagle a heart-felt hug.
I love you, son. Thank you for being you. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 55 [informant] => reprobate [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - 13


13
Date: Saturday, 1st May 2004 @ 07:27:00 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: reprobate
From under a mop of defiantely straight hair
Brown eyes flash along with an infectious smile
The voice quavers with fast-approaching manhood

In a too-big Tee-shirt that drapes past hips
And month-old pants that no longer reach where they should
A mercurial "Bye, love ya" fades in a dash through the door

"Where're ya headed?", is all I can manage
As I watch after the disappearing gangliness
"To the store...back soon" is the distant over-the- shoulder reply

"Take care and stay safe" - just thoughts now
Whatever happened to my 'little helper', I wonder
Did he really have to grow up

Back now with just purchased sugary treats
My "I'm not a little kid" selflessly shares with younger brother
As the two lay sprawled in front of the T.V.

Despite "Aw, dad" protests while trashing wrappers
I manage to finagle a heart-felt hug.
I love you, son. Thank you for being you.

This poem is Copyright © reprobate


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