My Flesh My Blood My Son 

Sometimes the benevolence of the sun sets you free 
Outside the house to roam within my comfort zone. 
Your mother doesn't know yet (you know what she's like) 
And I not far behind in her bothering. 

A glimpse through the mesh of the smudged net curtains 
Spots your sprouting bones off wobbling on the bike 
That you love so much; and how i duck as you look up 
To catch the chance to unfold your boundary. 
I grimace for the near squeezing of dark and improbable 
Thoughts, the mad tearing around for your whereabouts.   
Not far off, there is to come the scorn of being late 
And both your mother's barrels blaring down between my eyes. 
   
She scrubs and scours the streets off your skin 
Brings me kissing on a dreaming head, 
You threat to turn over as i peck on the cheek 
That cherub of a smile belies the devil in your day. 
The petulant swagger and the brag and the boast 
Of a glorious goal weaved through a forest of hacking legs, 
Your squabbling mates outside your school, 
Bellowing that it bounced off the shin.

Copyright, Francis Curran.
All rights reserved by author.