He is son to me.

I mourn his losses

Grieve over his disappointments

Feel the ache of his illnesses.

I laugh with him

Till it catches in my throat for the joy of it.

We exchange thoughts without speaking.

I cry with regret –

Frustration over his childhood;

There is no way of breaking back in time

To ease ache and soothe soreness.

Tears start when I am made to live

Relive my own lone days

And how I love him and ache with loving.

Is there no sating salt tears?

I wait impatiently for him

To find a right road.

Will a Father reach for His son?

Will love overtake him even as it did myself?

Dear Heart, forgive me for only lately

Learning what love is

When You knew all along.

He is my only, only son.

C.H.J.