An Ode to My Boy

Max he was born,
one summer morn,
the weekend of Father’s Day.

A gift given forever
to constantly treasure
in every conceivable way.

Welcomed by 3,
Mia just to my knee,
she met him with “I Love You.”

That’s pretty neat
and impossibly sweet.
I swear it’s emphatically true.

Our beautiful son,
happy ham from day one,
was congested in genuine joy.

I say minus conceit,
we were right then complete,
there with our girl and our boy.

Well, he was a riot,
compared to the quiet
of his sister’s sweet sounding coos.

He demanded his place
with tears on his face,
to settle he’d simply refuse.

Months marched along,
the year sang her song,
that final verse twisted our tune.

Our boy was so splendid,
but we were extended;
our minutes all scattered and strewn.

Before we would falter
we needed to alter;
new lives to fit our new need.

So we scheduled a forum
with happy decorum,
then wrote down a plan and agreed.

We did something cool
and opened a school
for wee-ones with wonderful wit.

The first years fly by
in the blink of an eye -
a fact we couldn’t forget.

By then Max was one,
over two feet of fun,
both mired in mischief and mirth.

If we are appraising,
well life was amazing,
better each day since his birth.

Across the next couple of years,
surrounded by peers,
our puppy progressed to a dog.

We were right – it flew fast,
but we made each minute last,
unwilling to live in a fog.

A half decade later,
he’s the constant creator
of limitless minutes of joy.

Yes, we’re attached,
but he’s truly unmatched,
my clever, congenial boy.

September is soon;
an upcoming moon.
Our school day will see two in the car.

It’s a little bit fitting
to find me admitting
that I find that idea bizarre.

My days have been filled
by the bliss that we build,
and that I shall never forget.

But I know in my heart
that we’re still at the start
and the best has not happened yet.

Writer Dad

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