Mar 08, 2008 11:23
To My Son:
The thoughts that I have, are like rain that drip effortlessly from the sky and drop upon the stems and petals of white and peach colored roses that droop slightly from within the confines of a crystal vase in the rain.
The drops that are not captured by the flowers, which gleam in the sunlight that peer from the passing clouds, trickle down the stems but only the waters of life pass into the vase.
The rest, cling onto the thorns and drip away from the vessel into the puddles of mourning that evaporate quickly away.
The sounds of my child’s laughter cling to my ears if they were just moments that happened just yesterday. The thoughts are as intense and welcoming as the moment that they were created all those years ago; filled with the love of a son to a father and will always be there to show me that they are never ending just as those rain drops that fall onto the rose petals in that crystal vase in the rain. I welcome the gleaming jewels that dance like a million stars that appear in the cosmos
SIKOLTO
heartbreak,
children,
growing older,
parenting,
life