I walk with my little son.
He would follow me to the edges of our galaxy,
just to tell me a story of his love for reality.
He waits for my return
then tells me he misses me:
with a smile, a cuddle and kiss
that reminds me he’s here in this world.
He gives me tasks to do
while playing in the evening;
then I read him a story
way past bedtime.
We walk in the morning
while he points out rivers of gold,
in the sunrise of the morning cold.
He wears his welly boots
that always soak his socks
from the lakes spilling through
the old broken locks.
We walk in the winter snow,
but he never tells me
how his hands look so cold.
He steps over the white mountains
and laughs when he falls –
while shouting “Hey, Dad! Did you see that?”
We talk about all those crazy baby things.
He reminds me of how life
is just a push on a swing.
We laugh about Mum staying in;
then we talk about his older brothers
being naughty and doing silly things.
My little boy just turned three
and does things
that completely amazes me.
He sings all the words to every song;
he points at Mum
when she’s doing it wrong;
he combines his vision
to build a life
free from a prison
in a universe that gives him permission
to be strong.
But most important of all!
He gives his love
like magic is to a unicorn.