Prison built from growing guilt from mistakes past.
How many times did he turn right when left should have been last?
Did he move his foot too soon or was his step in time?
Was everything rushing forward and keeping him in line?
Time dragged slowly as the clock on the wall ticked.
Was every second that was wasted a sign of things gone wrong?
Should he have been there sooner instead of thinking too much?
Should he have believed Lily when she told him not to make a fuss?
The nurse pulled out a chart but went to another waiting person instead.
Was there something about the way James was pacing holes into their floor?
Did he have enough gold to support the future he planned for his son?
Was it too much to make the child into another spoiled brat?
Crying could be heard and it went through his very soul.
Was this the sound of his first born being kissed by the world?
Was James the type of man that could be the father he dreamed?
Was he going to fail miserably the way his thoughts all seemed?
A mousy nurse grabbed his arm and led him down the corridor.
There was Lily holding a child in her arms and looking like a mess.
But to James she was beautiful and his son a miracle in himself.
So James leaned over and peered into the soft round face.
Eyes pierced through the thoughts that were racing in his mind.
Those roaming eyes that had somehow began controlling his life.
Those ten fingers lying against his mother’s hand moved slightly.
Ten toes hidden inside the blanket wrapped around his body.
Was James going to teach his son about Quidditch and brooms?
Was there enough space to make him a small play room?
Was Harry going to grow up reading tons of books?
Was he going to have his mother’s eyes and his father’s handsome looks?
Was he going to be a trouble maker just as James once was?
Bewitching sticks and stones and tossing people upside down?
Was he going to be great at potions if he got accepted into Hogwarts?
Was he going to be popular or something more of a curse?
Was he going to make good friends to teach him right from wrong?
Was he going to fall asleep listening to his mother’s song?
Was he going to enjoy hearing a story his father told?
Of a group of friends who thought they cold do anything and were bold
But nothing seemed to matter as much as it had before.
Because this was his special boy, part of his heart and world.