There he lay in his cot,
This strange looking creature
Created by the two of us.
What would he be,
This small wriggling bundle,
Of joy?
He and I battled throughout
His young life, over draughts, Chess
And especially backgammon.
I would not let him win!
Then suddenly one day
He beat me, at draughts,
I was so proud!
He had no help, only experience.
He had won of his own accord!
I knew, know, that in this life
You rarely get given anything.
You have to earn things
By working for them.
He had earned his win.
He grew, and grew and grew
Until I had to look up
To this little chap, to whom
We had given our life.
We drifted apart through
Sheer stupidity;
But it didn’t last long.
And now we talk of many things,
We play backgammon still.
(He is still trying to beat me!)
He had his problems;
But we were always there.
We cried over him but
Of that he was not aware.
All we could do was
Our best.
My boy is unmistakably my son ,
We look the same,
We walk the same,
We even clap the same!