Boy Years

Boy Years

Somehow,
   (Did I blink my eyes?)
   (Was I distracted by everyday care?)
Somehow,
   I looked around and you
were grown.
  The boy years flown –
    gone.
Seems overnight
they took flight and
   swiftly, so swiftly
passed from sight, and away.

Gone…
   Those days of backpacks
toy guns and surplus cammo.
And the terrific battles
fought –
   out among the trees
on your knees, watching
   for the enemy –
(your brother), planning,
directing and executing the
   orders sure to bring swift victory.
Till, at last, close of day
as if from far away
    the voice of the general –
Me,
   Calling you home.
No more do I own that
  Privilege.
You’re grown…
 The boy years flown.
Your battles not your own,
   at another’s command, the
guns not toys.
And with others, no longer boys,
you march to the
Cadence
  of the call of your country.
And I, though so proud,
  still wish to be able
to step out the back door and
  give the order that brought you
running on swiftest feet –
“Come and eat, boys!”
 
 
Written for my oldest son, Sgt. Ryan Wilhite, while he was in boot camp.

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