seven pounds of a wet freshly born son in my hands.
only but a year ago
his brother could lay upon my chest and fit.
moments become time
and flow to the sea.
Some year forward
his pride is shown reaching the light switch.
Another son now, tri-joy
moments become water gone by.
Oh smaller one yet,
who’s large aqueous eyes shine at her christening.
One seawater tear
running down my face,
many inside deluge my heart ..restrain.
I hold my soaked, injured child
and distract him with tales.
A crash thunderstorm of pride,
his school applauds his departure,
a fine writing achievement.
And his little brother is growing so tall.
time has become a fast flowing creek.
Her lovely art work displayed with magnets.
His fingers on the sonata fly through recital.
He delights me, tin-man performance.
His portrait of me, of me, wins!
Welling emotion
strives to flood through a river of time,
river of many tears dropped.
I cry for his broken heart.
I silently weep, a most beautiful young woman
reaches for a diploma.
A bearded young man who calls me pops,
we stay up too late
discussing philosophy.
My son and his bride, walk the beach,
that ocean is our lives
for saline tears and moments flowed to become
cascading recollections passed.
And little brother stands so tall,
when pronounced husband and wife.
Seawater falling from all our eyes,
eyes that witness an age of joy.
my salty tear trickling,
I type a heart-sea of blessings, memories,
and moments that became, and will become. time,
and continue to flow by,
to flow by,
flow
by,
by.
Sweet . . . in both senses of meaning.
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