If I could Write a Book

If I could write a book, my son,
And put it in your hand,

So many things of life and love
I’d have you understand:

Of books to read and hills to climb
And foods you need to taste;
The value of your closest friend,
And time you dare not waste.

If I could write a book, my son,
And, if I could write it well,
One chapter there would stand alone;
One theme on which to dwell.

I’d write of bridges wide and strong;
Of beams that bear their load,
Unwavering in the task assigned,
So, worth their weight in gold!

I’d write of honest men and true,
Dependable and brave,
Who brook their trials like a king;
Noble-born or slave!

But alas, my son, I would write in vain.
This truth you know, and well:
This chapter you must write alone;
Not mine, but yours to tell!

To all my children!