Like Father, like Son.
Or so they say, as the father gathers his son in his arms, to have and hold, from this day onward. Such are the words of promise between two who love.
The father leans to kiss the brow of the son, the golden mane falling to drift like filigree on the son's gossamer silken cap, gold on gold. So much alike.
The golden child, son of his golden father, smiles in wonder at the fall of burnished locks, and reaches high with perfect hands of such smallness as to bring a fullness of love to overwhelm this unique being who names him 'son'.
For they are alike, yet not alike, as all who see and wonder at their being say in gentle, loving whispers.
She who loves them both beyond all measure weeps unshed tears of joy, these two for whom life will be so full and fair. She smiles, watching in candle-glimmer and jewelled shadow the tender care of this new father, and hears the velvet murmur of softest rhyme as he soothes the child with love.
For love he has; too much, some would say, his heart so great and gentle. But to those who hold his heart in thrall, he gives all he has and more, and to this, his son, he gives his very soul. For he is now complete, at peace, his broken heart now healed, and the woman who loves both man and child can now rejoice.
She sees him trace his son's fair face, great, clawed hands so deft and kind. Not a scratch, not a mark, so feather-light the child smiles with joy at his father's touch. Her heart will surely burst with love, she thinks, to see them both, and calls softly in the flickering light.
And then she knows her heart will burst as man and child turn enchanted eyes to she who guards their love. For each gaze is the same.
Azure.
An azure blue that pierces deep within her soul, and innocence and passion blaze with equal fire in father and son. In that one moment she knows, can see and feel the bond that binds them all, body, heart and soul, and she is with them as she surrenders to the song of love that hums within.
The father feels her joy, and a smile so small yet so perfect shows the glint of sharpest white on his noble face.
"My son," he says, his voice the gentlest voice she has ever heard, "my son …"
Her kiss to both man and child completes the bond.
"Yes, my love. Your son. And he is beautiful, as are you."
The father turns once more to watch the child, and wonder fills his gaze.
And then, as opal fire gleams in azure gaze and tears pool crystal in the bluest depths … he smiles.
For he is whole at last, free and unfettered in love for woman and child.
For now he knows … he knows that love is all.
