My son is four, he goes to school On
the grey dawn with sleepy eyes
And pores intently over books at dusk
Distracted by birdsong and fireflies
His teacher though ignores my smile
But I know in my heart of hearts
Edison too was slow
I remember nistorys~famed late starts
He is so dear to me, I thfnk
Of shadowed lashes on cheek, his toddling walk Rapt
meditation of his toes, after feeds
The whimper of fear in the dark
Born of me, my flesh my blood
For what must you struggle so
Why do I let them peel YOur innocence
Who is this unknown, nameless foe?