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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