This poem was written by my step-son Jason in honor of my 58th birthday.
(Thanks, Jason. I was touched by your poem...)
ďAn Ode to UsĒ
A Manís Man!
The Adam of my Motherís apple.
A Man who knows what he wants and when heís right,
Who knows what fruits offer a body;
mind, soul, and all the tiny atoms that constitute my Self.
Whose guts allowed me to become a vision, the proverbial apple of my Motherís Eye.
A Man who slaved and toiled over a seedling
He knows has potential to be chock full of vitamins, minerals, and mother natureís sweetness.
A Father, whose fruits and labor met with much trepidation from a mere boy wrestling to become a man,
nevertheless, from headache to frustration, planted a seed.
It was a long, hard journey for this seed, a gift from my mother to her husband, who shared with her offspring this key to life and knowledge.
A Father who cultivated this seed into an apple,
And taught a son to be a Man.
From an aspiring Harry wannabe