Love of a Son

Oliver was in search of love that day, when arms motioned up with the bowl, I well up inside when I think of the poor wretch, stripped of all save his little soul Negative stills of this scene and others are developed in the black of my mind, but in walks my son who reminds me that love is the ultimate find Simple words betray the truth so poetry is the tool, I’ll place all my cards on the table, and I’ll even play the village fool His fair complexion is tightly thatched with taut sandy locks just as mine, he’s developing a sensitive and gentle manner, to me a pleasing sign Sadly, at times, I fail in reception of his little wants and pleas, and when aware, I fervently rebuke myself for not responding with appease In the ‘wars’ cut and bruised he comes to me with puppies eyes, an oasis of comfort he has surely found and my feelings tell no lies When apart, there’s a feeling of not being quite complete, for when he was born he took a part of me; nature or some greater feat? I can’t begin to tell you what it’s like living on the proverbial cloud nine, but if my feelings are compared to the weather, then the sun never fails to shine Alas, one day we must surely part, and so, may our love for each other become fused into some bigger and tangible heart If this enigma is to kindle your heart then you must surely know, never hide the love you have for someone, shout it out, stand it up, let it show.