The dog barks and the cat mews, <br />The moon comes out in the sky, <br />The birds are mostly settled. <br />I envy your twelve hours <br />Of uninterrupted dreaming. <br /> <br />I take your small palms in mine <br />And don't know what <br />To do with them. Beware, my son, <br />Of those old clear-headed women <br /> <br />Who never miss a funeral.<br /><br />Arvind Krishna Mehrotra<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/canticle-for-my-son/
