Little Boy

This was written sometime ago. I always called my son, My Little Boy Blue, so with apologies to the original author of a poem titled Little Boy Blue, Eugene Fields, I have used his "title only" and wrote a poem for my son. The last stanza was written in Oct. 2000

The little toy models are covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch they stand.
The trophys he won are beginning to rust;
For want of a polishing hand.

Time was, when the model's were new and,
The trophy's were passing fair.
That was when, "My Little Boy Blue,"
Placed them so neatly there.

Something happened. One day he said,
"I want to be on my own,"
Then one night, when all was still...
He left and we were alone.

Perhaps one day an Angel's song,
Will waken, "My Little Boy Blue."
Oh! The weeks are many and months so long,
But we will always be true.

Faithful to Little Boy Blue we stand,
Each in our same old place:
Awaiting the touch of a gentle hand,
The warmth of his smiling face.

I wonder as waiting these long days through;
As I gaze at his treasures so fair,
What has become of, "My Little Boy Blue,"
Since he placed them so neatly there?

Now, today, I know where he is and
My heart cries out in pain!
I want to hold, "My Little Boy Blue,"
And touch his face again.

Oh! Angels sing your songs to him.
Touch his heart with your Angel wings.
Please tell him that we are still waiting...
To see his smiling face again.

At this time my son is in prison and I would appreciate any prayers you might have to ask the Lord to keep him safe and make him a different person when he gets out.

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