Return to front page
A SON AT LAST
Our first living son came, the first of two boys,
He had tight dark curls, full of mischief and joys,
Eyes that sparkled and full of love of living,
Always a good friend, kind and ever giving.
Our chubby little toddler was at first quite small,
Yet he grew and turned skinny and quite tall,
His mop of hair rich dark brown with tight curls
Has always been the envy of quite a few girls.
He loved to play in the bathtub with his crocodile,
Kept it for protection and saved it for quite awhile,
For a neighbour had told him they crawl up the drain,
‘Twas ages before he’d bathe without crocodile again.
His friends seemed to pick on him, the scapegoat was he,
But he never grumbled, at least not that we could see.
A boy with a dyslexia that slowed him down at school,
But he tried hard, which was our homes golden rule.
He loved animals, often brought injured or strays home
As around the neighbourhood he would often roam,
Always fun to be around when he was a small child,
Although at his birthday parties he was a little wild.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson September 4, 2002