Child, You are Mine

I cried for you today,
the childish dreams of
an old man,
wishing to see you be in
the new world
while the
scalding drops
drip and dribble
fermenting and embalming
our footprints in the tile.

You've made it.
I should be proud of that.
Instead, I am afraid.
I am afraid I have
left you in a place where
your little eyes cannot see
and your little hands cannot hold.

But I soon realize that your
vision is clearer than mine,
your hands stronger than mine
and it was I who brought you there.

We no longer play like children;
we work like adults.

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