A Son Before A Mother's Sixty-fifth

There was a time, dear lady
My little feet looked angelic
And this much I know:
They still do to you
Though as we both become statues
It's hard to trust your view

This is the time, dear lady
When we focus our attention
Your virtues hardening fast
I still see your autumn complexion
I still remember things set soft in past

Now we watch time, dear lady
Make angels of the ones we can't ignore
My son has tiny feet and hands
As did I, and you before
In keeping up with his demands
We get stuck among moving clocks
Becoming one with the decor
--
5.2.12