Son

Would you have been a writer
Or a call center agent
Or somebody who insisted
On being neither of his parents

Would you have been creative
Like mom, a spaced out artist
Or would you have been street smart
Like dad, a pragmatist

Would you have been a rebellious teenager
Driving, moving under some bad influence
Or would you have been a good son
Blessed with perfectly good sense

You probably would be chubby
Not too big, not too tall
Maybe just a little bit athletic
Chances are, you could not sing at all

You would break my heart
Every time you get sick or hurt
You would break my face into a smile
With your charm, your mirth

Surely you would have dimples
And a laugh that can get others laughing too
Surely you'll be assured
I would spend my life loving you

Would you mind it so much
If my tired, achy heart stops hoping
And my long-empty womb stops waiting
Because the years have not stopped me from aging

Son, I loved you before I could meet you
I wanted you long before I could bear children
And even now as hope wavers and desire tapers
I still ask if not now, then when