Poem for Franklin

If happiness were golden,
and you were gray;
I would choose you.

If there were blue skies,
and you were the rainy day;
I would choose you.

When you’re grown,
and your footsteps fade,
from the length of my hall;
And your hand prints are larger,
than the ones on my wall,

When your hair no longer
falls in your eyes,
and doesn’t stick up silly
on that one side,

Though you will walk away,
a man,
I will still choose you.

For your gray
is that quiet moment
right before dawn,

And your rainy day
washed me clean
and made me new.

No matter what you do,
I will always,
always,
Choose You.

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