On a day in August (forget what year now) –
you were so new,
I promised, I would always be there, for you
I dreamt of reading Dickinson, just you and me
on an itchy blanket, in the shade, under a tree.
I knew you needed a big name –
to match the mark you would make on the world.
I promised you the life of an artist –
the dreamers, the laughers, the lovers,
the reminders that life is for creating.
That morning I packed you up –
Just me and you, walked to the bus stop
In one hundred and twenty degree heat
paid eighty cents, to meet a girl –
I’m sure was an angel, she said,
‘spread your wings and fly’ I laughed
but whispered it in your sleeping ear.
Determined to teach you kindness,
I thought a good heart was better than any doctor’s degree
I was young, I didn’t know the life of an artist –
Could be hardship full of mixed emotions
about a world that could be, should be, better.
Brought you home – I stayed up all night, admiring you.
Now you are bigger than me, you have your own dreams,
I pray every night they come true, for you –
my beautiful little boy, I believe in you…