it is past my bedtime, but may I try and compose a poem for you night owls? C/C?

[??damsy blues ® ?? ™]

?

when I last looked
you were just a wee lad
but I turned around twice
and you were gone
grown out of all
that I had given
tossed to the side
I felt your eyes, the last time
we spent
that day... me packing up
you with your camera
were you filming me
to remember?
or were you looking for something
for your father
to use in court against me?
I still to this day
look for your face in
crowded rooms
wondering who you have become
and if ever
you will come back to me
your mother.
...
and so I sit
here at my desk
typing idly when sleep is
pushing me
claiming strangers
as my family, brothers, sisters
a child so blue
but
what is lacking
you must know
my son
is you