My Son - by
The moon keeps watch
/ and the child sleeps.
/ His head emerges from the covers
/ like a flower smiling at life.
/ His breath is like…
The moon keeps watch
/ and the child sleeps.
/ His head emerges from the covers
/ like a flower smiling at life.
/ His breath is like…
Stout Laird o’ Blackford Hill, let me
/ But gain your honour’s lug a wee,
/ I fain wad let your lairdship see
/ …
I would have loved you, wept
/ with your father and your mother
/ over these tiny perfect hands, perfect feet
/
/ preserved skin-free, en-pointe –
/ as…
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