Poem: Your Seventeenth Birthday

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.

6 thoughts on “Poem: Your Seventeenth Birthday

  1. Friends of mine celebrate their child’s birthday with, “Whew! I was able to keep the kid alive one more year!

    Don’t have kids myself but it must be ridiculously scary. Parents to my mind are half saints and half martyrs. And mothers seem to give up half their brain power to their babies, for about 7 years, and then the mist clears.

  2. There is a saying or bit of wisdom; a son is a son until he takes a wife, a daughter is a daughter for all her life. I have two daughters both now married. There is some truth to the saying. However I feel I have gained two sons I never had. I hope their fathers feel they have gained a daughter.

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