Eighteen
And here I am
pushing the bell
he opens the door
grabs hold of me
and kisses me wildly
on my left cheek
and on the right
and once again
he lifts me up
inside I go
yes carries me
and if he wants
upstairs I go
I struggle to get free
But that's in vain
Stronger than I
He puts me down
And looks at me
My youngest son
Still eighteen years
He asks himself
Why he is here
Yes on this earth
Where should he go
What's his being
What is the goal
Spontaneity
Or you control
Naturalness
That's what he likes
But maybe all
Is already perfect
I think it is
Know only one thing
I do love him
The way he is
Perfect or not
He is my son
Now eighteen years
Written in Dutch August 10' 2002
Translated in English February 18' 2003
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