That little Boy

Where did that little boy go, the one with the waddlie walk, the droolie smile and the gurglie talk?

That kid, the one who had a twinkle in his eye finding the parts of his new body to explore to his delight, where did he go, that one? He sucked his toes, played with his fingers and genitals too, poked himself in the eye, and stuck his finger in his ear. Where did that little boy go?

Where did that little one go, you know the boy who cried at night, for fear the monster was near, but still played in the light knowing it was clear? He built forts, houses, and sand castles in the dirt, he drove a "cat", a logging truck and an 18 wheeler too! Played soldier, doctor and sometimes a nurse.

Where did that child go, the one who ruled the world, conquered armies, and beat back the Hun. Where did that little boy go, the one, you recall, who played the flute, wrote a sonnet, and painted a picture or two, raced a car and learned of Caesar, of Cleopatra, Hannibal, the Golden Goose and cried when his dog had gone.

Where has that kid gone to, you know the one, he bid farewell with fearful sounds, and a lonesome yearning. Where has that little boy gone, have you seen him pass this way or not?

Yes, that one, the one with the manly gait, the stride of pride, but humbleness abide. He waits patiently now, for the time is near, the sojourn clear, then he'll be on his way.

Where has he got to, this little boy of mine, he was here, but now he is gone, he must be on his way, this son of mine. 

                                         T. Condon Aug.,97