New Eyes

Real, he is real He sits on my son’s bed He has a beak and wings His neck’s no longer firm His color’s dirty green He was brought to life by my child’s love And he will live forever Whether on his bed, or in his memory Bufflehead is real He is loved He is needed He listens and watches as life unfolds Nine years have gone by Yet at bed time My son still calls me to his side And I am so glad I belong in his bed too November 24, 2015

A smile Cooing Laughter Calling Eyes which shimmer even if there is no light in them A body which sways back and forth Excitement in my voice received with gladness He is here five years later He is here, and I am happy