Childhood

Only Time will tell

what words you'll scream at me
from a foggy teenage fury, or
what heartbreaks and tragedies

you'll tell me of in years to come
as tender youth hardens into age--
but Now, with your yellow curls
pressed intimately against my aging neck
as only infant sons can hold their fathers,
in tear-dipped awe I silently observe
your light-shot spring dawn, bursting
with unlearned wisdom and grace,
& store these wide, joy-filled seconds
in my fearful heart, hugging you to me
as I shall press this memory
against the wounds my age and
cynicism insist Time shall inflict.

sep 2017