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February 21st; the year was 2K3,
where folks were often blinded by the what or who may be,
we rushed to get you born; I prayed the good book had a page,
your newborn forehead soft; I gave you Mush-Mush as a name,
more right to say a term that had endearment as support,
my love for you so strong that I could peer into its force,
and grab the nucleus from out the middle à la carte,
the passing years have only strengthened this with all my heart.
There’s college down the road; who knows what else may be in store,
your future’s sturdy like the kind of shelves you see in stores,
and I’ll be right there cheering on what you decide to be,
you represent the smartest most ingenious side of me.
We sit and we converse; it’s like I’m talking to myself,
for you I’ll walk these dogs despite what’s barking at my health,
whatever you commit to, be the best that you can be,
if folks don’t like it f*ck ‘em; let ‘em step into the breeze.
Someday your dad will walk among the spirits dead and gone,
I hope to leave you with an open heart and head that’s strong,
enough to withstand all the sh!t a lifetime loves to give,
I’m confident you’ll do big things; besides, I love you kid.
