He sits quietly, alone in the sand, working busily with a cup and a pan,
His mind moves freely through an enchanted land, this mystical boy of mine.
All I can see is a hand moving slow, as a small caped doll moves to and fro.
Unknown to us are the places he’ll go in the eyes of this boy of mine.
He constructs a town and scatters ‘round guards. The hero’s in a chamber, surrounded by bars!
But with subhuman strength, much greater than ours, he escapes with this boy of mine.
Then you’ll hear a small roaring sound as an earthquake shakes and rattles the ground,
And toys and sand are scattered around, as two small hands level the town,
then rebuilt by this boy of mine.
With fascination, I watch him slowly rebuild. Always, I find, that the villain will yield,
And with undying love, my heart is filled for this magnificent boy of mine.
I can see him freely and easily go to those wonderful places I no longer know,
Places, to me, he’ll eagerly show, this instructional boy of mine.
2007-06-02
21:57:30
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4 answers
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asked by
Eudora
4
in
Poetry