Fifty years ago I changed your diapers,
Burped you on my strong shoulder,
Sang silly songs to help you sleep.
You were a precious gift,
A son to call my own,
Sweet purpose in my days.
Seasons flowed, years came and went,
We grew apart as needs must be,
But still we loved each other.
Now I am old,
Walking slowly so I do not fall;
I go from hour to hour, not sure what’s next.
And at times I need your help,
Driving me to doctors,
Replacing inconvenient light bulbs.
Some day, and maybe soon,
You might change my diapers,
Croon soothing songs to me.
What could be more natural
As our respective lives
Pass through their cycles?
©2021 John I. Blair, 7/13/2021