By Patty Juster
Happy Birthday, my son,
Of what age are you now?
At twelve you were taken,
Almost three years ago
That makes you ‘bout fifteen
Or has God made you old?
How do you look,
His glory clothes now you wear,
Are there whiskers on your face,
Do you sniffle and sneeze?
Have you grown many inches
In stature do you stand tall?
Do you remember your mom,
Her loving embrace to feel?
Does He tell you of my tears,
Or does His joy blinding you
Now forget all earthly woes?
When I get there, will glory
Cover the great loss I bear,
Or does pain of memory
Cling to eternities robe
Some spot time cannot remove?
How can I send gifts to you,
My son, how shall I wrap it.
Now that you have everything,
Need you still tokens of love?
Who will blow out your candles,
May I make your birthday wish?
Do angels wrestle with you,
Faking weak to show you strong
You once loved to pin me down
Counting to ten, marking air
So the world would then know,
For one brief moment, your strength
Has now overcome your mom