You, probably, will never pad into my room, <br />to stand, heart-still, listening for breath, <br />or search my dream-gone face. <br /> <br /> <br />Amidst your worldly goods I stand, <br />imbibing of you both, <br />three adrift on seas of wonder. <br />And grateful I am, and pray <br />that down the days, I may, through you, <br />repay the kindnesses and courtesies, <br />that, forming me, formed you. <br /> <br /> <br />So not to me is owed <br />what you may both achieve. <br />For in boyish slumber <br />my breath rose as an answered prayer <br />to those who watched over me, <br />as now I watch over you.<br /><br />James Mills<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/generations-2/
