Dad's Song
This sacred son
was not born to dance
or sing
or speak.
He will never read the paper
or earn his first green dollar
or sow
what success
more leftbrain enabled
hope to reap.
But, he is love.
His fashion fills compassion
He brings peace
And when he touches with his eyes
or reaches with his hand
to touch me
I am at last healed
enough
To know
why I was born to dance
and sing
and speak
this great glad felt
and touching wisdom
of proud
silently enabling
romance.
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