My boy grew up.

My boy who was so scared
of the word death
I remember him crying

With the fear of the unknown
So timid he was so when a
Balloon moved on its own
He would come running to me in fear.
When I now read his poem
On Death
I know that little boy is long gone
And in his place stands a fine young man.
His teachers would be so proud
 I am sure
Quite the poet he has become
And I am so proud of his latest
Epithet, for now I know
That he can comfort
Confused minds and give them
Clarity !