I know my darling boy,
The way his eyes twinkle when he plays with toys,
And how he hides when he sees insects.
The thing in my house is not my son,
The way its eyes twinkle when looking at the sun,
How it stomps bugs that get too close.
I know my child,
I could recognize his smile,
If I was a thousand feet away.
The tiniest of changes,
And the briefest of exchanges,
Things only I would know.
Yet everyone calls me crazy,
They say stress makes me hazy,
I know that thing is not my baby.
I know “That’s not like you.”