I watch him in my dreams <br /> <br />(waking hours are sometimes dreams, too) <br /> <br />with endearment streaming <br /> <br />through my veins <br /> <br />and my blood feels cold <br /> <br />with trepidation <br /> <br />as I wonder what drama <br /> <br />is unfolding <br /> <br />in the silver city <br /> <br />of his mind <br /> <br />yesterday in history <br /> <br />his nuptial knot etched in ink <br /> <br />gratified his manhood <br /> <br />nurturing today <br /> <br />a frenzied hope <br /> <br />and a family more refreshing <br /> <br />like honey-dew <br /> <br />innocent of what tomorrow heralds <br /> <br />as he gestates in a wheel chair <br /> <br />with MS wriggling his toes <br /> <br />and youth imprisoned <br /> <br />without trial or tribulation <br /> <br />and in this ocean of grief <br /> <br />I cry without tears <br /> <br />longing for my son <br /> <br />to see this world <br /> <br />from dusk to dawn.<br /><br />Leonard Dabydeen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-watch-him-in-my-dreams/
