My Sons Three


When I think of my sons three,
I see them as they used to be;
Infants, toddlers, youths and then
Suddenly they are all three men,
Bending down to plant a kiss,
Oh! Those little boys I miss!

Life was simple, life was fun
But now they’ve grown up, one by one,
Married all and one with children
Life is busy, oft’ bewildren.

Lift that barge! Tote that bale!
Work real hard or you will fail.
Go to work when you’re not able
Pay the bills and fill the table.

Always strong against the blows,
When deep within that boy/child knows
A gripping fear around his heart
That tears his insides all apart.

When pressure builds to run away,
He needs some time to goof and play
As once he did when he was small.
It’s hard to grow to six feet tall
And be prepared to fix it all.

Young or old, shy or bold,
I watch and see a truth behold.
The world is heavy. Can he hold it
By himself, or shall he fold it?

Help them Lord to understand:
Without You, they can’t be a man.




Alice M. Scott December 21, 1986