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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1456179
The frustration of love and parenthood in a hectic busy world
Glorious child, wonderful child
Eyes so bright with a heart so mild
My heart aches to think that you'll grow up while
            I slave away at work

I hope you grow up intelligent and bright
Prince of the day, unafraid of the night
Wise, poetic, defender of right
While I spend my days
            all of my long days at work

My heart breaks as I dwell upon
The ghastly thing you are bound to become
A teenager, an adult; oh my poor sweet son
The doubting, the fear, the frustration, the grief
You'll experience it all, be you policeman or thief
Then you'll grow old and die like a lone autumn leaf
            as I spend all of my days at work

I will never know you
            I spend all of my days at work

© Copyright 2008 Junglejack (jboles at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1456179