Vol. 4, No. 2 • Spring 2000

My Little Boy
by Kenneth Thomas

I saw my little boy.
He was beautiful to see,
The most precious sight I'd ever seen
When they handed him to me.

I held my little boy.
My eyes filled up with tears.
I'd barely convinced his mother
To let him have these years.

I laughed at my little boy
When he'd fallen on his butt,
So then he laughed, to be like me,
Loud and hearty from the gut.

I hit my little boy
While under stress and strain.
I did not mean to hurt him,
But that did not stop the pain.

What I could have meant to my little boy
Would have meant a lot to me.
The greatest thief of my life's joy
Is that I caused it not to be.

� 1999, Kenneth Thomas

Copyright � 2000 Jordan Institute for Families