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Son, What Can I Give You

 

What does one failed poet have to offer
Maybe I can give you my dreams
And maybe they’d just plague you as they’ve done me
Maybe I can give you a love of rhyme 
And a way to bleed your soul into neat little lines

Or maybe you’d be better off with my imagination
So you can daydream of all the places you’ll never see
And write a story so believable
Everyone will think you've been

Maybe you’ll have your sire’s ambition 
And with that, my son 
You’ll go so much farther than either of us could imagine 
Maybe you’ll see all the places we won’t
Or maybe you’ll settle down right near home 

What does one broken caregiver have to offer
Maybe I’ll foster in you a great compassion 
And empathy enough to love the forgotten 
Maybe you’ll even be a doctor or something
Maybe you’ll heal the sick and ease the dying 
Maybe you’ll have your father’s mind 
And be the mathematical type
And if you do, my son, the sky’s the limit
You can go anywhere or be anything

What does one poor mother have to offer
I’m not rich so there’ll be no trust fund
Chances are we’ll get by but sometimes the getting will be hard
You won’t have the top of the line gadgets as seen on TV 
And your clothes will be bought off the sale racks for cheap 
So what can I give you when you’re worth so much 
My love, son, only my love. 



By Amanda M. Burns 
For My Son

 

 

 

 

© Amanda Saylor nee Burns. All rights reserved

 

 

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