Dear Sarah,

     I love and feel deeply your poem about your beloved little boy, which, in the truth of your great mother's love, you titled: "Never Really Far From Me."

      Not only, as I have already told you, have you eloquently portrayed a good mother's love for her child. You have also painted a very true and moving portrait of the life of a little boy.

     I used to be a little boy, so I know! (I remember most of my life, all the way back to nine months old.)  Your description of your little boy now, is so much like a description of the little boy I once was.

     I can remember jumping and spinning. I can remember when my favorite word, after anything that I loved or liked a lot, was: "Again!"

      And it still is, really.

      As I face the end of my life, I look up to the sky.

      In the day, I see the sky--luminous blue--sometimes adorned with sun-brightened clouds, floating glories of gold and orange and white--and I feel that word welling up in me.

     At night, I see in the sky a wide velvet darkness sprkinled with tiny shiny specks--the silent stars--that I know are really immensely powerful, and vastly far, shining suns. And I always marvel at the beauty of the bright borrowed light of the moon.  In my heart, I hear the echo of that childhood happy word.

     I love my llfe so much!

     On the verge of losing it, I cry out my whole heart to the heavens--knowing that there can never be too many times of happiness in life; and I call out that same childhood word: "Again!"




--Written by Michael LP, aka MLP
aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC. aka Mr. Poet
Copyright © 2010 by Michael L.P.  All rights reserved