Effervescence
spills in the opening door,
although I see it is not my son.
His memories glint like sun on whitecaps,
dashing up the shore unannounced.

Wrapping my soul in velvet,
enchanting child, exuburant young man;
he bounced through my life,
then on to his own.

Mementos, our nineteen gifts
of years; now tucked into countless
silk-lined cedar drawers
of my mind.

What radiant eyes could ever be
as sapphire, or what love so pure?

Footprints on the frame at eye level,
where he walked up the doorway
testing his early teen legs,
still laugh there
unwashed.

.
.
.
For my son, who is now twenty-eight, newly married, and very happy. I am so happy for him, and his lovely bride!