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I am my father,
And my dad is me.
My son is my father
As I am he.

As he lays upon my chest
His breathing shallows to mine.
While his heart slows,
Then beats in time.

When he his older
And I am long gone.
Will he remember of the time,
In his sleep, he dribbled on my shoulder?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I used to try and alter my breathing when I lay next to my father.
Hoping that if I could be more of a part of him ,he wouldn't leave me behind,or send me away. We'd be as one forever.These days i try to alter my breathing again, this time so as not to wake my 2 year old.

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last updated 20 October 2013 - 3:31pm
©5 February 2002 - 12:12am — giajl
14 February 2003 - 11:44am — Angela Nussbaumer (not verified)
Angela Nussbaumer's picture

He will probably not remember the dribblin but he will certainly have something within himself which will help him through all his life: the feeling of being loved, wanted and especially of being save.
Immensely tender and loving poem this is!