His hands are gentle though he forgets his own strength;
His walk is purposeful just shorter in length;
His smile is infectious but so are his tears;
His view of the world won’t be colored by years;
He’ll become an adult with the heart of a child;
If only the world could live a life so beguiled!
Many will judge him as imperfect but I wonder;
If ‘imperfect’ is an imperfect world’s blunder.
What if he’s perfect but so jaded are we;
That we view perfection so imperfectly?