he’s panic stricken when his mother leaves;
he’s full of grief when daddy has to go —
he wraps himself around me when I’m there
but lashes out in anger even so
he’s only three, but so much has he seen,
for some stability he yearns and pleads —
a heart that’s made for joy, confusion lade,
just clinging to the ones he loves
and needs

Love is born of love. Give him all you’ve got.
The painting you choose for your poem (awesome as always) is absolutely awesome.
Lots of love
Angel in the dust