I once followed as your kid held the torch, high.
Fire lit earnestly, I heard the question, “why?”
Then the jet-black cloak gave way to light.
Your kid showed me something as I flew to a new height.
Your boy holds the torch everywhere he is
Even when we’re just enjoying some bliss:
He wears it always, your cloak,
And I see it even when he throws a joke.
Everything went blank again, I start from zero.
And I write something I should’ve written long ago.
I’ve got a brother in your kid who’s great.
He tickles me when I’ve got much on my plate.
It is no question, he got his gifts from thee:
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
We’ve never met—it’s something I regret:
Personally saying thanks is a chance I’ll never get.
You’ve done a great job raising him. My applause.
Your kid is serving a very noble cause.
In these verses, I let my message drift:
Thank you so much for my brother, your gift.
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