Blame it on Patrice

Patrice over at Blessings Amid Chaos posted a wonderful poem she wrote about her boys. It got me thinking (Danger danger) and this popped out of my head.

That little boy I miss the most

He was always in mischief it seemed

His best efforts to behave oft met with defeat

His path was easy to discern

Just follow the broken or messed up places

Toys were usually left anywhere the interest left

His day was a meandering progress

That brought him each day to a dream filled sleep

That little boy I miss the most

He wasn’t plagued by self doubt

He knew he could do

Whatever came to his mind to do

Those things he knew

He knew them without question

No wall was too tall

No valley was too wide

No task was too daunting

He faced each day as an unfolding adventure

That little boy I miss the most

There were scraped knees and skinned elbows

There were bloody noses and black eyes

There were falls and tumbles

But, there were conquered mountains

There were crossed rivers

There were spanned valleys

There were hands raised in victories

And new challenges eagerly anticipated

Just over the next hill or around the next bend

For that little boy I miss the most

You may wonder what happened to that little boy

That I would miss him so much

Time passed

Toys gave way to girls and cars

Grade school gave way to high school and college

Adventure gave way to jobs and a career

Boyhood gave way to manhood

Being a kid gave way to being a parent

And then, even a grandparent

Simple choices gave way to complicated decisions

The walls got taller, the valleys wider, and the rivers deeper

Still, every now and then, that little boy comes out to play

In my heart he runs and jumps

He tumbles and dives

He kicks up leaves and swings on vines

He knows what he knows unquestionably

He does what he does without fear

Until it is time for him to return home once more

That little boy I miss the most

Until next time

Ron Simpson Jr.

June 25, 2009