I was listening to the rain outside,
a steady rhythm of a soft spring shower
the whistle of a train nearby,
reminded me of a man I love so dear.
I have watched him grow his entire life
a boy to a young man, such happens overnight
I see pictures and memories and I want to cry
for when might I tell him how grateful am I.
I’d like to remind him of all the moments he believed
even when I was a puddle of self agony and grieved.
I want him to know that quite honestly every night
while the whistle of the train plays the rains so light.
I love him, I’m so proud I may call him my son.
© Thom Amundsen 5/2020