I wait restlessly for days;
My eyes fixed at the door with a hopeful gaze,
Awaiting a knock at the door to hear from him
A pleasant smile and tears filled eyes,
Welcome “it”.
He is a stranger yet my family;
Brings priceless happiness whenever he visits,
He gives me what nothing can match.
Precious “it” is for me and its worth infinite.
I send him off thanking him a zillion,
To bring my son enveloped in a piece of paper
My son, he is so far, yet so near.
I can feel him in “it”, he is my dear.
My son writes to me his heart.
I can see him fight it hard,
At the rugged mountains and cold
He is courageous he makes me so proud.
In the curves of his writing I can see him smile,
I can feel his nearness and hear him say
“Mommy I love you, can you make some cakes?”
I say I will my baby, anything for you my darling.
With a lump in my throat and heart choked,
I do all what he loves seeing me do
My Child writes to me without fail,
Letting me know how much he cares for me and has to say.
“It” is a piece of paper but invaluable.
“It” is my priceless possession, my treasure.
I can give my life away but not “it”.
“It” is my son’s reflection and nothing is beyond “it”.
“It” brings to me my son; I can visualize my son glow thru his personal touch.
“It” brings to me my son; I can hear him say “Mommy” thru his personal touch.
“It” brings to me my son; I can feel him hug me thru his personal touch.
“It” brings to me my son; I can smell his fragrance thru his personal touch.
