AR (3-2-1945 / California)

Lost Son

Lost Son
Someone we cuddled and played with
Has evaporated in front of our eyes like a myth
Someone we nursed for scrapes and bruises
Who we taught manners he no longer uses
Someone we cherished as the head of his class
Has slipped through our fingers like sand in an hour glass
Someone we bragged about till we burst with pride
Has leaped from our grasp to the other side
In the aftermath of war
Between a parent and a child
Where the forces of anger
Have ricocheted into the wild
Where the air is heavy
And the mood is bitter tasting
And stares are thrown like knives
And the gap erodes, slowing wasting
Where threats have long been replaced
And grounding is for old aeroplanes
Have we slowed down when we should have raced
Or is this the results of our growing pains
Then there came the tossing of the tassels
New horizons led to new hassles
How can we provide a little seasoning
To what youth call reasoning
The techniques of experts have been useless
The custom of grandparents, fruitless
Insults are thrown and egos tattered
Names used in vain and common sense shattered
When will we use our allotment of untold alibis
That we use to smother the fire in his eyes
His anchors have slipped
And the seas too rough to handle
The wings of might have been clipped
With both ends burning on his candle
The rivers of tears have over flown
And the current has taken him under
Unmistakenly drifting to a place unknown
Where our son should find his thunder

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