You came to us
in the waning days of winter
but you, my son, are a child of a
different season.
Hair full of fragrant white sunshine,
eyes brimming with deep wonderment,
steel blue of the early morning ocean
and bubbling from you lips
is joy, sweetly musical
like tinkling wind chimes
in the breezy afternoon shade.
I wish for you a lifetime of summers.
Blow dandelions, revel in the freedom
of long, lazy days
that turn magical with fireflies at moonrise.
Shine always,
my son.
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