Michael

I remember well a stocky little boy of three,
Sun white hair and skinned up knee,
I miss him. 
I wonder where he's gone. 
He simply disappeared one day as
I sent him off the play. 

In his place there came a lad of nine
Who was never truly only mine. 
He left one summer to return
A sunburned youth I yearned
To hold upon my lap again. 

He'd think me foolish if I tried. 
I will hold him in my heart, inside. 
Though he looks at me with manly eyes,
The reflection that I see,
Is a stocky little boy of three,
With sun white hair and skinned up knee.