My Son
The pitter-patter of your feet echoes.
Your laughter travels with the wind.
My son, my son;
I can still hear you.
Wherever I go, you are there.
Your smile lights up the world.
My son, my son;
I can still see you.
Food on your cheeks, dirt on your neck;
Your sweet kisses heal my soul.
My son, my son;
I can still taste you.
A hard day of play, a clean bath to wash it away;
Your aroma reminds me of home.
My son, my son;
I can still smell you.
The warm embrace of your daily hugs linger;
Your soft little hand in mine.
My son, my son;
I can still feel you.
In loving memory of Chance Konkler
Michael A. Walker
Defying Procrastination
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