Shadow Child

I see him through the
darkened window as I leave,
Shadow-child
head bent
     tender sight
     that head, that boy

He walks to his room,
to the bed
I once tucked ’round him
wrapped in giggles
and prayers
     boy of mine
     child of mine

He grows out of childhood
with his father watching now,
and me–keeping watch
from a distance.

Update: My Shadow Child is a young man of 32 now. Happy in life. And so is his mom.

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About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard, doing things with my grandsons and spending time with my beau on his beautiful 22 acres in north central Florida.
This entry was posted in human interest, love, mother, poetry, psychology, relationships, sadness, spirituality, women. Bookmark the permalink.

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