Little Boy Dreams

He walked across a thousand fields dreaming little boy dreams.

He slept beneath the orchard trees; he lived his life full and free.

The summers crawled on lazy days; life moved on to the manhood of today.

He now looks back on those pristine and gentler times.

He now prays that this peace he could once again find.

Too, oh too many wars have his now tired eyes seen.

Too much suffering of which his heart does glean.   

He remembers fishing from dawn to dark.

He with fondness recalls playing in the park.

Yet now, yet even now he feels lost and without a plan.

Oh so many things there are that he does not understand.

Starring now at an endless paper sky; he wonders.

He wonders why.

Gilded memories placate; sweet were his lost dreams of afore.

Times have come to a head in a glistening heated rush.

He prays prayers of forgiveness in the evening’s soft hush.

No more the little boy with little his boy dreams.

He has grown to be a man with life hanging on tattered seams.

He looks at his wife of whom he most desperately loves.

He thinks now of their dreams; he calls on God above.

Long ago dreams or present dreams; they all call that simple peace.

It is then he does realize; back then or present day.

It’s not the dreams that mean so much, but the Grace found in His love.

J. Allen Wilson © 7/2008