When I sometimes meander in my thoughts,
And touch on things I hold dear
Topping this, right next to God, are you, my son.
I’d like to think I had something to do with
Moulding you into this great young man,
But I know it is not so:
You were born with a streak of goodness,
A sliver of heaven in you,
And I can’t take any credit for that.
As you start your next quarter century,
As you seek out what you are,
I will be watching with pleasure,
In anticipation of the goodness that
You will add to this world.
I know this because I know you: Love you
