My boy turns one today,
And I’m half a world away.
Will he remember my face?
And run into my arms when I call his name?
When I look into his eyes,
Will there be a moment of surprise?
An awakening of deep love inside?
Will I be the man he needs?
To swing him high into the trees?
To nurse his wounds when he bleeds?
And be the North Star to refocus his misdeeds?
Will he look at me differently when I wake from dreams,
Startled by explosions and young lives deceased?
And a picture of him is stained with sweat from the desert sun,
And fingers rubs the dust and burns off the broken ones.
A phone call pierces the air with laughter,
And once again a lonely heart finds solace from disaster.
Distance heightens a longing that only time can defuse.
And will I ever be the man strong enough to be called his muse?

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