Of Matt and Me



The doctors said he’d never be

More than a child of two or three,

My firstborn son.

He’d grow in stature and in limb,

But there would be a part of him

That missed the sun.

“Put him away!” That was the voice

Of those who thought there was no choice

For Matt and me.

They couldn’t see a mother’s will,

A child whom illness could not still –-

My Matt and me.

It was a long and slippery climb

With days that never seemed to rhyme,

But Matt was strong.

He learned to reason, learned to care;

His beat was different but rare,

A cheerful song.

He holds a job at thirty-two,

More than some learned people do.

He does it well.

There isn’t anyone as kind.

He’s learned to seek and how to find

Refuge from hell.

This is a dear and gentle man,

Who gives the most of all he can –-

Love without end.

So if you glance at Matt and me,

Don’t miss the splendor that is he –-

My son, my friend.



                                  Donna J. Stone

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