Here is my son,
the apparitions of a phantom in the night,
seeking a dawn sky that’s rooted in a yawn
My wife flutters,
a bird of paradise
among aromas of early morning coffee.
She sleeps with one eye on the nest,
appeasing those half flown,
clutching conciliation to her breast.
She communes, he describes
It's funny how life just goes by.
He glances at my jaundiced eye.
Did I ever take the time?
Once I dropped him when a child.
He smiles the smile
of one who flies for miles.