My Brown-Eyed Boy

You don’t have my eyes, my nose, my lips,
But you do have my heart.
You don’t have your dad’s jawline,
You don’t have his height (or lack of it),
But you do have his unending love.

He taught you how to speak,
I taught you how to edit.
He passed on his passion for songs,
I passed on my passion for words.

He taught you responsibility,
By giving you that curly damn dog.
I taught you to be strong,
By being there when you stumbled.

You learned to speak your mind
Without stepping on anyone’s toes.
You learned to pour your heart out
By hand and by voice.

You brought home your first girl,
And that was fine by us.
Then you brought home your first boy –
Your dad made a fuss, but never you mind.

I get to put him in a dress once in a while,
And he never puts up a fight.
He embraces my quirks and all –
You being gay is no big deal at all.

Go ahead and grow, change, evolve.
Be whatever you want to be.
You may not be our flesh and blood,
But we are your soil, your rock, your stars.