There is so much still to learn
So much more,
As the season’s turn
And you’re now four
Daddy’s boy, Mummy’s joy.
With near blank sheet there to fill
For a whole life’s amount
To sort the phoney from the real
And make every minute count.
When you do not like a trend
Remember, every trend must end;
Chart your course, firm and true
So life’s winds of joy flow back to you.
While you’re just four these words will wait
Hanging like blossoms in the air
And you, safe nurtured in family state
Will emerge one day into the World that’s waiting there
Always Daddy’s boy and Mummy’s joy.
March 2006