My True Gifts To My Son

monochrome photo of a young boy smiling

My True Gifts To My Son

It came to me

in a painful flash

of obvious, duh.

He can sing, he can write,

he can make music,

he can make friends,

he can do so many things, but

I’d never taught him anything.

What he was, he was

because of him,

not me,

nothing to do with me.

I’d shown him all of nothing,

not even wrong things.

Not how to spring a leak,

not how to fuse a plug;

not how to paint a blot,

not how to bump a car;

not any of the many things

I’m not any good at.

Sadly, it seems that

he knows how to do

the things that I do


I suspect the inheritance

I will leave my son

will mainly be


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