My boys are my brothers
Without the aid of my father and my mother.
They don’t bounce when the bullets fly.
They stand up straight when my enemies drive by.
Many are called friends;
Fewer are called brothers -
A homey who gives his life for another.
Go the car doors.
Go the house keys.
Go the keys in the door.
Goes the front door!
That is me running down the stairs.
Mom and Dad are home!!
This is the way we get through
The crowd shouts,
The ball soars through the air.
Then, bounce, bounce, bounce.
The audience holds its breath.
The ball goes in;
The fire crackles under the stars.
The water sizzles above the fire.
The campers crunching on potato chips.
Click! Clack! Click! Clack!
The tent poles clicking and clacking together.
As we prepare our sleeping bags to go to sleep.
The crickets say, “good-night”.
The thunder roars.
The rain comes down.
The thunder shakes the window panes.
Run to the car! Run to the car!
To Grandma’s we go
For hot cocoa.
Kids are running everywhere.
Running and Splash –
Falling in the pool.
The music plays –
The children dance.
Finally, the food is off the grill-
Munch, munch, munch!