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As He Pulls Himself Up

His eyes are so determined; it’s grasp and pull and tug;
Before he’s done my baby son transnavigates the rug.
His hand is reaching skyward to just below my knee;
My pants clinched tight, with all his might, I cheer the champ I see
As he pulls himself up.

He pesters me to take my tools and his training wheels remove;
Five years old and tough-guy bold, he’s got some things to prove.
He wobbles left, he wobbles right, he’s thrilled at last to ride;
Three close calls and then he falls, and now I’m filled with pride
As he pulls himself up.

The banners line the high school track, the parents fill the stands;
A relay race is taking place, batons are changing hands.
He dashes toward the finish line, collapses at the tape;
Forget the fall, he gave his all and doesn’t mind the scrape
As he pulls himself up.

We fathers gather wisdom until the day we die;
Despite our smarts, our aging hearts oft lose the will to try.
We tire when our efforts fail, but battles CAN be won!
We gain this hope that helps us cope when e’er we watch a son
As he pulls himself up.

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.

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