My Son

The joys that I savor
in these lingering days
when the span of my years is declining,
involve cherished memories
in the life of my son.

I smile as I see him again in my mind,
attempting to escape from his crib,
or toddling along on the floor.
How he'd laugh when he dropped unexpectedly
on his rump
in his attempts to make haste.

What a clamber he was!
"Hi, Dad," he'd call.
I'd look up, and there he was,
no larger than a speck
on the highest limb of the tree.
But high, though he was,
he was never higher in my mind.

Tops, also, was he in sports.
Again and again,
I'd see him hitting the long ball
and watch as it sailed to center field
bewildering the opposite side,
standing helplessly by,
arms to their sides,
watching it float over the wall.

At Cambridge, on graduation day,
how proud I was as, amidst cheers from the crowd,
and a smile from the president, he took his degree,
then gave an excellent speech
that is still remembered
to this day.

A born leader, he was.
I see him accepting a great position
that recognized his talents.
His future was bright
and he advanced up the ladder
to the highest echelons within IBM.

I relive again
the social event of the year
as my son was wed to
the most eligible woman in society.
How handsome they looked
as they stood side by side,
in glistening white
and whispered their I do's.

The built their dream house
on the outskirts of a metropolis.
There was a BMW in the circular drive,
A Mercedes in the garage.
My grandchildren danced on the lawn,
a boy with a name like mine, and a girl
whose face was the striking image of her mother's.
Oh, those grandchildren.,
There were never any
that could quite
compare with them.

These are the memories,
and more
that I enjoy
in my later years.
I see his life so clearly,
my beloved son's,
but sadly, all this has to be
in reverie,
for my son died in infancy
over sixty years ago.