Son, you worshipped me
Before you grew
To see my godhood disappear.
The great Oz himself
Could not deceive you,
Though he tried.
"You can't un-ring a bell,"
Your grandpa says,
And he is right.
What I wouldn't do
To take back wasted years,
Chasing fame and books,
Spending time on work,
Chasing empty dreams,
While you were waiting.
One day I looked up
From worthless work;
I saw you standing tall,
Emerging beard and
Deepened voice,
And in your eyes,
A hint of longing
For a past that should
Have been.
Beautiful and bittersweet, acknowledging reality mayhap, yet love seems to stand and proffer the precious moments just ahead, so sweetly.