In my arms,
I cradle you,
swaying to the music,
kissing you on your forehead,
your eyelids becoming heavy.
I lay you down
and watch you sleep.
I could never tire of doing this.
It is too bad though since
naturally you will grow up.
But for now, I treasure
these early moments
of loving you, my son,
Jacob Pedro Vega.
This poem was written on September 13, 1999.
