Wispy blond-brown hair spills over from the crown of his head,
The cowlick above his left eye never seems to stay down,
His crystal blue eyes stare out at me in blind trust and endless love,
He is my Son.
His strong and stubborn brow gives away his every emotion,
A dimple or two not quite obvious at the corners of his mouth,
Hidden by the baby fat that fills out his lovely face
He is my Son.
The way his little hip sticks out to the side when he doesn't get his own way,
An actor that turns the tears on and off like a faucet,
The smile that radiates sunshine when he is happy.
He is my Son.
