Unknown tomes lay leafless, without pedigree,
bound in the ether with a spine of synapse.
An author holds the heft of history and legacy,
still enchanted with the chance to diverge from his path.
And so he transmutes the tenets of the text
to honor his son’s own rites of passage.
The tale weaves whimsy with the limits of the deft;
bittersweet memories (penned/pinned) in a timeless package.