A Circle of thought

A rumble in the night, I hear a faint cry.
I wake and rub the sleep from my eyes.

I turn to my blessing my gifts of all gifts
and pick him up and sing for a bit.

He slowly relaxes because he knows it is only I,
The mother that will see clearly into his eyes.

Oblivious by what others may say,
My son is a blessing, I can see him in no other way.

Others talk about pity, sorrow, loss and grief,
For he may not grow to be what they envision as their belief.

I have so much to teach him, so much to say,
Because he is a true reflection of the love I feel everyday.

A hug, a glance and tender nudge of his cheek,
Is his way of telling me, he believes in me.

Nothing is taken for granted, but seen for what it is worth,
Each moment, a blessing, a gift, a snow flake that can not be duplicated on earth.

For my son is my hero, although he may not know the words I say,
His communications are like rainbows upon cloudy days.

BY Reva