A Poem about Fathers and Sons

Hold onto him in his eager eyes,
With more than hands, hold his high-stretched little hand
And hug the twilight fears, the midnight cries.
Embrace with all your tears his heart of cheer,
His laughing voice that gently gathers
The broken-hearted back home and back to what they were,
To what was good and giving and naive.
Wrap remembering around reading
All of his books, all of his make-believing looks,
Every game upon the bed, every episode of captain hook.

Hold onto him in his sighing songs,
Never let go of his too many questions,
His too many quests, his good requests.
Never let go of his silhouette, his soft voice,
When the day was done and sleep came softly to him
In your arms.

Hold onto him before you can remember,
Before the seeing's done darkly in glass,
And the sound of sacred small steps fades away.

Holding his hand, tying his shoes,

Keep his asking and his answers,
Keep his light heart close, and hold his daily news,
Before he runs from room to room into tomorrow,
Before the day for holding hands has run
All farther than we ever hope to borrow,
All faster than we ever choose.