To you, mother, I was
a great man
in his boyhood.
Married to someone you'd
realized you could not talk to,
in a domestic prison
in a city you did not know
with a young, dependant child,
how alone you must have felt!
Who would deliver you
but that same, golden son?
He had to be
someone great.
Seeded by your desire,
he believed he was,
and will never feel at peace
until the whole world
sees him the way you did.
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/golden-child/
