Autumn walks with wooden swords
Slaying all the neighbors’ gourds
Keeping Mama safe from harm
From within reach of her arm.
Sailing ships in violent storms
“It’s certain death!” he informs
But before he’ll face his fears
She will wash behind his ears.
A late-night walk through a cave
He’s not scared; he’s strong, he’s brave
But when his head begins to spin
She’ll close the book, and tuck him in.
He’ll jump right out of a tree
Take a fall and skin his knee
He’ll spill no tears down his face
Until he feels his Mom’s embrace.
Boys are something to behold
Wills of iron, hearts of gold
Not invincible by far -
But born just perfect as they are.
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