A Letter to My Musically-Gifted Son

From a family of doctors

Dear Son,

A path, it was handed down

For your shoes it was meant

On this path no one drowns

That’s why it’s the way we went

Your genes, they got you a ticket

That much I know for sure

The safe bet would be to take it

If safety were the allure

But you were born with other shoes too

Fit for another life trail

It meanders — as most do

The gawkers may use the word fail

Don’t look back whatever happens

There’s nothing here to see

The cord is cut, not slackened

Your skills demand you be free

And the noise please do ignore

The mouths they will flap away

Attached to those who bore

As in their success they slowly decay

You deserve other measures

Yes, I know what they are

So be it chump change or treasure

In this place you’re already a star

Love,

Dad