Sonnet 12 – On Fatherhood
How is it possible to not believe
in the perfected purity of love
when I have been granted such to receive,
by benign gods that look down from above.
To have created life, to hold your child
is such that it is beyond man’s mere prose
and to attempt that write is madness wild,
best to just smile at another who knows.
It must surely be an illness most vile
that afflicts the heart that feels not this draw,
and remains as stone before a child’s smile
infecting it’s host with such a cruel flaw.
Blessed are we who have our children known
and felt a love that is never outgrown.