- Books, Literature, and Writing
Four Young Boys At Play
Sunset is a sure promise kept
Motorists hum along on their way to everywhere
Traffic stops and starts only to start again
And in the lull I spy four children
Playing in the yard as most children do at this time
Four young boys with guns drawn
The small army prepared for war
And I wonder, "What is their game?"
Perhaps they are soldiers
Preparing for the battlefield of life
As they creep and crawl around Fort Family Car
Shooting at the enemy to watch him fall down dead
He falls and is miraculously resurrected
He lives to fight again!
And then it occurs to me--
No one really knows what is in the mind of a child
For a child's imagination is but a garden of possibility.
Whatever the game, I hope it is good.
I hope it is not a glimpse of the future
When colorful plastic morphs into hard, cold, steel
The loser falls to the ground
And never rises again.