Children call out as their small feet tap aÂ
merry tattoo down the street and off to school.
They sound happier at it than I was.
A dog barks in the distance.
When my boys were small they dressed
our dog in clothes and patient
as the moon he went along with it.
I miss the crazy antics of my boys who
now according to the calendar are
men. But to me my boys. Always.
Always and ever my own three boys.
