I think I’m blessed much more than most
And perhaps a little more.
No grandsons yet of which to boast
But granddaughters I have four!
More babies could be on the way
Adoption, too, I understand.
A little girl would be Okay.
A grandson would be “grand.”
There is no doubt when she’d arrive
Such joy to hold her in my arms,
And she granddaughter number five
Equipped with all her charms.
All dressed in pink, topped with a bow,
Such beauty enthralls the heart,
A wonder just to watch her grow—
God’s rare and priceless art.
So, girls are nothing less to love
But oh, to hold a boy!
The grandson I am thinking of
would be my pride and joy.
There’s reasons I reflect at all,
I dream the dreams a boy would,
Of thoughts now at my beck and call
Lost innocence and boyhood.
Of baseball gloves and tiny bugs,
Toy soldiers in the mire stuck
Of tiny cars and tighter hugs
And one new fire truck.
To twice enjoy the wonder of
A childhood world for little boys
The carefree life I ponder of
With friendships made of toys.
A grandson makes this all come true
And with a little extra luck
He’ll grow to love the same things, too
(I mostly hope the truck.)
I played with ladders and the hose
But mainly with the tires
I had to change them—a child knows.
(I never went to fires.)
That truck had been my favorite toy
I missed this moment with a son
But if there be a baby boy
I want to buy him one.
My firetruck of yesteryear
I tried and cannot seem to find
We’re seventy years away from there
Oh well then, never mind.
I hope someday I can say I found
A most awesomest surprise.
A firetruck equipped with sound
To brighten little eyes!
“But little girls fight fires, too!”
You say, “This is an old man’s whim.
To find a truck all shiny new,
And buy it just for him!”
Not so! This is my special toy
I’m buying this for me!
For I was once a little boy
This is my memory.