For My Son

by Rod McKuen

Watching children grow is like threatening the ivy to climb the garden wall. You wait for it to happen you hurry it along with love. But still you’re disappointed at giving someone life enough to walk off on their own and not be carried in your arms. You never turn your back—not once, and yet one day they’ve grown apart or taller. It’s all the same.

Polly put the kettle on we’ll all have tea. Giving love to children has made us older overnight.