100 Words on Love, by Peter Mallon
He passed me out today, my son.
A flash of yellow and your mother’s hair, the whish and clink of chain.
I’ve watched you born, crawl, toddle, walk and run.
I’ve seen you wobble; but persevere.
I was supposed to run and you follow, but you and time caught up. I must be mindful of the time.
But to see you fly ahead my son, it doesn’t make me feel old; but happy.
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Photo courtesy of the author