I hold this moment in my grasp a picture
of the past, of a future whose present
I have yet to meet, have yet to enfold
in these, the most avuncular of arms.
So I shall let these few words be,
not a blessing nor a wish nor praise,
but a statement of elemental fact:
you are life in more ways than one.
And your mother, that dear friend, too has life
in so many senses, in so many ways.
Then, accept this poem of someone unknown,
as yet unmet, a moment in one’s grasp,
true and false, future and present and past,
like the picture of you, dear child
who lives with all of us the endless dream.
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 1990; rev. 2013