Dad's Song

This sacred son was not born to dance or sing or speak. He will never read the paper or earn his first green dollar or sow what success more leftbrain enabled hope to reap. But, he is love. His fashion fills compassion He brings peace And when he touches with his eyes or reaches with his hand to touch me I am at last healed enough To know why I was born to dance and sing and speak this great glad felt and touching wisdom of proud silently enabling romance.