On a warm and past distant morn

a child, a boy, beautiful born.

The seed father, love, and mother sewn

tiny once but too quickly grown.

Tended, nourished, cultivated, groomed,

sprouted once, yet the tree now bloomed.

Roots dug deep, pleaded, promised, duty held fast

limbs soar skyward visions cast.

Years of laughter and tears are made

but always weary travelers shade.

Young and innocent, pure or blemished

there above all else, competly cherished.

A man, a husband, soon a father he

fruit born from this giving tree.

Diapered, cuddled beneath protected bow

student then, teacher now.

A seed's seed has sprouted last

life gone by as distant, future, past.

Silence comes, sun gives way

much too soon the end of day.

The sun slips past horizon's door

and with it too the hopes it bore.

The firey glow in glories fade

days of thoughts and dreams once made.

Father, son, and tree so tall

vague clariety beyond us all.

An instant, a speck in time

yet an eternal rhythm, rhyme.

Small and lonliness, darkness filled

but soon a pain, slowly stilled.

And too, despite this endless night

bound together dawns new light.

Sun now rising beyond the shore, and over distant sands

The man, the spirit, in gentle hands.

Smile, the contentment over deaths defeat

a child renewed, a bond complete.