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The first night
you and your brother
slept in this room
you were entering

In sickness and in
health this room
restored you,
sheltered you
and kept you safe.

It was a special place,
where you found refuge
and the space you needed
to mature and grow.

For thousands of nights,
you safely slumbered here;
experiencing fantastic dreams
of danger and heroic adventure
that fill the night reveries
of all sleeping boys.

For thousands of days,
this room filled
with daydreams
and the happy clatter
of play time
as you wondered
and prepared
to become the man
you were meant to be.

I witnessed and
much of your journey
through many
of those days.

I was anointed by this
gracious blessing
to see you,
your brother
and sister
grow strong,
and united in
close bonds
of love, respect
and trust
for one another.

My life
has brought me
no greater satisfaction
then being able
to provide you
with the safety
of a loving
where all this
could be so.

The day I watched you,
as your brother did before
stand in this room
packing a duffel bag
to leave for the service;
I silently
you would
return to
the safety
of this room.

I watched as
you carefully
all the items
you had neatly
laid out on your bed;
boots, socks
and uniforms;
the necessities
of a military life
now replacing
the orphaned  
play things  
filling the room.

I knew as I watched you pack
that I stood witness to a man
putting away the childish things
of youth; inconsequential artifacts
for you that now held deeper
meaning for me.

The soldier was ready
to leave his boyhood home
to learn, train and prepare
to lead other men
in the serious business
of war.

The spring day sunshine
that flowed into the room
that afternoon framed
you in a new
magnificent light.
I no longer saw the boy
who had occupied
this room for a
few thousand days. I
now looked upon
a young man,
resolute in purpose,
of firm caliber
and upright character
standing before me.

The former boy who
grew up in this room
had become
a man dedicated
to the serious pursuit
of matters that
engage men
in a life of
service and

It was a blessed experience
to see you in this light,
and come to the realization
that this room would no longer
be a safe sanctuary for you
and I could no longer shield you
from the dangers of the world.

You are off to pitch
vulnerable bivouacs
and sleep in muddy foxholes;
willingly placing yourself
and the men you will
command into harm’s way.

It is said
“The child is father to the man”
and now it is left to you to assure
the freedom and safety of a father
who keeps your room ready
with the expectant hope
and fervent prayer
of your safe
return home.

I love you.

Dedicated with
love and respect for

Paul Robeson:
Little Man You Had Busy Day

written to commemorate and honor my two son's military service
amaya b  Mar 2019
amaya b Mar 2019
i couldn't stop staring as the coffee dripped from her lips
she hooked her thumbs under her belt loops, resting her palms on her hips
i admired the curls that fell atop her forehead,
feeling the glowing sensation as my cheeks burned red
her name was sweet, like chocolate on my tongue
and the only thing i could compare her to was our everlasting sun

based off of a fan fiction i was going to write but never finished. i really want to though...this poem was supposed to be by the main guy in the story, who's an aspiring poet in college, talking about the main girl, who he'd just *formally* met in a barnes and noble starbucks cafe. i don't know, maybe it's cliche, but i'm just really into that kind of thing. thought it was pretty cute.

— The End —