Promise, potential, intelligence and warmth
These are the qualities I can see in them both
Little hands that held a football, a basketball,
that held my hand and squeezed tight
yes in my sons I do take delight
I see them changing from boys into men
right before my eyes as they show me the 
latest dance moves 
I’ve watched tears roll down little cheeks
as I railed at them for some bad thing that they did
I’ve cared for skinned knees, scraped chins, and broken fingers
I’ve showed up at their schools to talk with their teachers
I’ve watched them proudly, handsome in Easter suits and ties
and I’ve listened and marveled at their incredible lies
from mother’s day fancies brought home from school
to girls and the telephone and curfew rules
sons are a promise but they don’t come with guarantees
sometimes they take the wrong path and bring us to our knees

I remember when I use to tell them everything would be all right
and they still believed it