To My Son

My real life.

We walked along
You gabbling with joy
Your hand in mine
When you were just a boy

In days of flowers
There among the wood,
I took it in
But never understood

Somehow, I lost you then,
But didn’t see it;
Amid the brightness of
Each perfect day

I loved you, but I lost you,
Never knowing
The sorrows waiting
Just around the way

I love you more than life,
But I have failed you;
For blinded by my pride,
I didn’t see —

That I had lost you to
The ghosts and demons,
I loved you,
But I failed you,

Horribly

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

3 thoughts on “To My Son”

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