Watching You

I watch you here, in quiet reflection.

I ruminate in this moment of introspection,

Because I know well the pain of the adult infection.

It is this parity between your perfection and my parental affection,

That forever casts this happy-time-projection in this writer’s recollection.

“Stay my son, stay, a happy child forever.

Would you do this for me?”

That’s what I want to say, but I know it’s not the right way.

Even if you could, remain here, in this moment of play,

I cannot ask you to give up your life of future-forays.

For the land of never-never is a snare ruled by an imp called Pan,

And the cruelty of a hook’d old man.

So, stay you now for your time,

And tarry not for me.

Though, sad I will be, to see you grow, into another boy, and then a man.

And what shall you call me? —Either friend or foe?

You are my heart; see these words and know.

Therefore, whatever man I become in your estimation,

I remain here —watching you— with joy and elation.