Here is a poem I wrote more than ten years ago for my son’s 17th birthday:
Now that you are almost grown,
With arms more strong than mine,
You’re not quite eighteen yet and gone,
Let’s celebrate one more time.
I don’t know what to give you, son.
But gas and clothes and food.
You take your time, be with your friends.
When you are in the mood.
Let’s have some fun, let’s eat some cake,
Together while we can.
And celebrate your seventeenth,
Soon you will be a man.
Here is some money, use it well.
Just one thing I’ll make clear:
I’m proud of you, and you’re still mine,
For one more real short year.