The Jacket

I made my son a jacket From the old clothes that I once wore Some pieces used were from my youth And some pieces were what I wore in war Tattered pieces of cloth of my youth My son now wears when he goes out to play He lives the youth that I once had lived As he wears the jacket nearly every day, Kicking a ball and running about the yard Doing and playing the games I did when I was his age Climbing trees and jumping into the leaves I hear and see joy and happiness and no rage Now I see him playing soldiers in this jacket My heart beats fast and it's hard for me to breathe So I took his jacket and I destroyed it in a fire Now for the jacket, and not my son I do grieve. Randy L. McClave