My Little Man

5 Comments

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  • Family

    My Little Man

    I watch him race into the yard,
    On pudgy legs he swaggers onward,
    To wander through the garden paths,
    Adventure seeking is his sport.

    He hides beneath the willow tree,
    A branch for sword he battles forth.
    Then takes a wound and falls to earth,
    Hand clutching heart he dies so brave.

    Up he jumps and runs to hide,
    Amongst my Roma’s and Mountain Prides
    A sheepish grin of bounty red,
    Drips down his chin and stains his hands.

    Mouth to sleeve and hands to pants
    Then off he runs to chase a squirrel.
    He spots the sprinkler in the back
    Like moth to flame, to water lured.

    A jump, a slash and slide through mud,
    A squeal, a laugh, another jump.
    Mud puddles made for sticky pies,
    Or castles built with sticks and leaves.

    Wet from head to toe he stands
    With hands on hips he stalks his prey
    Then suddenly through twinkling eyes
    He detects me in my suit of white!




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    ginga commented on My Little Man

    08-23-2009

    Lena, So poetic in this description of a loved one. I can see him racing about the yard and you smiling and wondering should I call him in now? The white uniform line is a great punchline! ginga

    Tempestlady commented on My Little Man

    08-01-2009

    Reminded me of mine. A wonderful time, watching tem grow and play. You should write everyday. Loved it! Peace.

    bandit1192 commented on My Little Man

    04-26-2009

    Could see him running all about the yard. Did he muddy your suit of white? TS

    peacefully commented on My Little Man

    04-25-2009

    Lena, I loved this poem. I couldn't help but smile all the way through it. I especially love the last line. Did you hug him or run. LOL

    WordSlinger commented on My Little Man

    04-25-2009

    Awe, must be a granchild. :) I gave this a 9

    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

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