To Philip
By Doug Atkins; Written in the 1960s (douglas.atkins@btopenworld.com)

        

   When you look at your child
   Fast asleep in his cot,
   Then the braid on your sleeve
   Doesn't mean such a lot.
   He smiles in his sleep
   And it tugs at your heart;
   You don't want to fly,
   But you have to depart.
   So you go and you pray
   And you come back again,
   To play with your son
   Whenever you can.
   He's proud of his dad,
   But too young to tell
   That moments like these
   Can be absolute hell.
 

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