Shawn L. Bird

My son,

I gave you my nose:

a perky nose, not vaguely classic.

I gave you my hair:

the colour, the texture, the volume

so you should keep it

(be nice to your poor balding father,

don’t rub that in).

I gave you my height

(sorry about that).

I gave you my obsessive nature:

all into the current interest

for as long as the interest lasts.

I gave you my shoe lust

and an appreciation for the unique.

I’m not sure where you got that charm

that drags the ladies to you,

or the way you stretch your dimes

or your athletic discipline.

It’s fun to see your inheritance

blinking back at me from those

lovely, hazel eyes.

.

.

Mother and son on Mont Juic in Barcelona