Rich Clingman, September 21, 2001
His certificate of birth is only one year old,
And I treasure it more than fine, pure gold.
But my newborn son is five-foot-seven!
A miraculous birth! A gift from heaven!
His birthday is soon, and my incredible son
Will be seventeen, not only one.
See, he made a choice to call me his dad,
And on my birthday, I’m doubly glad!
On September 28th, one year ago,
The judge signed the papers and declared it so.
We’re “family” now, though there is no mother,
For “Dad” he chose me! He chose no other.
And in the deal, he got grandparents, too,
And uncles and aunts, more than a few.
There’s family galore! And my nephews and nieces
Cherish my son, they love him to pieces!
And I love him, too! He brings me such joy,
My incredible son, my miraculous boy.
A man he’ll soon be, yet I’ll still be “Dad,”
He’s the best birthday gift a man ever had!
He was already “Richard”, the same name as me,
So he’s “Junior” now, ‘cause we’re family.
Yet, the game we play when my son goes to bed:
“Good night, George!”
“Good night, Fred!”