Son

In a misty city across the water
Is my son - alone and lonely
And longing for his love.
Does the tree miss the fruit
Or the flower?
Then why do I
Miss my son
- who longs only for his love?
Parent trees grow stronger
For severance - so must I.

In a misty city across the water
Goodbye son - found perhaps a friend?

In a misty city across the water
My son - and his love
Miss their son.
Find perhaps a friend?

Norah Boehme