He Is My Son

"It takes a long time to grow young." -Pablo Picasso

I remember a boy sitting in a laundry basket, smiling from ear to ear.
He may have been one year old or two, but this I know, he is my son.

He was proud of his trick, having gotten into the basket to surprise Dad.
So proud of him and everything since, for he is my son.

Years flow by like cool mountain streams, winter's store of snow racing towards the sea.
Each drink of water quenches the soul, for he is my son.

As time runs on and age consumes, rocks will wear and new flowers bloom.
But forever it remains, for he is my son.

Happy Birthday my son.