His moments of growth
are bittersweet.
Intangible, and precious
Like the boy himself.
Yet, we are forced to wonder,
Who will Love him when we're gone?

His eyes sparkle,
of delights of his own design.
His laughter
from unknown sources.
His words are few, but so meaningful.
We worry,
Who will care to know him when we're gone?

He has no cares,
his worries, few.
He reacts,
forceful,
yet, is gentle and shy.
We wonder, who will know that when we're gone?

Not born of us, but in us still.
The love and protectiveness of parenthood
unite.
to become his ally, friend and confidant.
but who,
we wonder, will help him when we're gone?

He did not choose to be this way.
He struggles, we struggle
to help him. In loves design,
we look past the delays.
We wonder, who will do this when we're gone?