“Mom, listen to this,” my little brown-eyed boy confessed both excitedly and nervously, “I wrote a poem.”   I laid down on his bed, resting my head against the pillow-y soft life-sized crocodile that is his sleeping companion.

“It’s kind of sad,” he warned me, “but happy, too.”  He searched my face for approval to begin.  He wanted and needed my full attention.  Enraptured, I gave it to him.

 

ALIVE
by Kamden Melton

“If you could only see me one last time.

If you could only hear my rhythm and rhyme.

If you could only let me hear laughter and chime.

Then you would know…I am alive.

I am alive through your memories of me.

I am alive, leave me be.

I am alive through your laughter and through joy.

So keep me alive – no tears, no sorrow.

Keep me alive because there IS a tomorrow.

No, sadness shan’t prevail for

Yesterday is history

Tomorrow is unknown

But today is a gift

And that’s why it’s called

The Present.”

 

He came to a soft, slow close, paused, then finally looked at me for a response.  I told him how lovely, how heartfelt and moving the poem truly was.  How brilliant he is.  I encouraged him to put it to music, for it seemed to lend itself to a song.