In honor of Father’s day, I’m posting a poem that I wrote about my son John when he was only 2 months old. A lot has changed; unfortunately that change has been more drastic in him than in me.
John’s Faults
John, You’re a baby, and I love how you play and coo
But I admit, there are some things that I don’t like that you do
When I bring a bottle to give you milk to drink
Your hands push it away, never stopping to think
That you are crying because you are hungry, and you won’t take a minute.
To realize this bottle I give is good, and realize that what’s in it
Is given with the best intention and will leave you satisfied and full
And the blanket that you are trying desperately to eat is made of wool
So I’m not being mean when I pull the blanket from your face
But I won’t stop doing it just because you like how it tastes
I know better than you, so whether you scream or shout
love looks like putting the bottle in and taking the blanket out
You don’t trust me John, and I think that’s the root of the issue
Because when I leave to get so much as a tissue
You act as if you have no other option
Than to scream and yell like I put you up for adoption
But one day, one day I hope you realize
That that baby monitor is my second pair of eyes
And even though you feel like you are by yourself
Your father’s with you even when I can’t be felt
So don’t freak out, I’m not leaving for a week
I went to the kitchen to get you something to eat
And when I come back I’ll hold you, reflect, and see
That all I’ve complained about, is also a reflection of me
8/13/18
Another Small Stone 