AND HE TURNS FOUR

Like a gentle flower,
He made his way through my highway
In speed
Crying for the usual jubilation
So small, raising questions of his being
And he made all happy
Never knew he was to face hurdles gargantuan
In his easily countable stay
Boxing sicknesses
Wrestling illnesses
Damaging unwelness
And the flower churned
He so attractive
In him, house of medications
I pray and I pray and I pray and pray
Knowing not the end which awaits him
Always having legs of my heart in kneeling
Hoping God will be the captain of his ship
Although almost wrecked
The third year has gone to sleep
The fourth drives him now
And as the farmer of his seed
All I can do is pray
That my prayers reach the heavens
And touch the heart of the all skilful architect of humans
So I bear no grudges
In the arms of my end
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015