Son Poem

Poem About The Adventures Of Little Boys

When I wrote this poem I had three daughters, no sons, but I had five grandsons. So true to facts, the words in this poem are some life tales and adventures. Then later, joy, joy, I had a granddaughter, then eventually two more grandsons.

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Jac Judy A. Campbell © more by Jac Judy A. Campbell

Published: January 2018

Bullseyes and targets, marbles and darts.
Little green bugs and bicycle parts.
Frogs in their pockets, worms in their shirt.
A boy is a boy for all he is worth.

Cowboys and Indians, Gene Autry boots.
Guns in their holsters that are sure to shoot.
Big mud puddles, rocks in their shoes,
A chip on their shoulder, a black eye or two.

Little red wagon, scraped up chins,
Scuffed up pants, and old tin cans.
A laugh, a holler, a tear, a shout.
Into mischief but truly a scout.

Old clubhouses, flying a kite,
Up a tree, a fall on the bike.
Skinned up knees, bruises, and cuts.
A boy is a boy when his dukes are up


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