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Four-Foot Soldier

July 25, 2013
By CoffeeGirl17 GOLD, Grand Rapids, Michigan
More by this author
CoffeeGirl17 GOLD, Grand Rapids, Michigan
13 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Life is like a bowl of cherries, with a few nuts thrown in."

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The silence
of mid afternoon
is a hovering breath
before the first
sharp inhale
of school bus
exhaust.

A small boy
stumbles down
the black-footed mountain
hazy-eyed,
hair a disheveled drift
of light brown feathers,
carrying life
across slumped shoulders
and inside a
plastic Spiderman backpack.

Echoes of his day
are clouded glass
I want to reach
back inside it
and find the words
that colored his lips,
the number of
times he drew
his sword against
the young faces
surrounding him--
If he even drew it
at all.

His mouth is set
in a determined line
body tilting forward
like a sapling in a storm
He sees me
the lips rise and part
forming a shape
that cuts through
Time
and suspends struggles
on a long wire
far from where we
stand, all while
the battlefield
fades somewhere below
the march of
Bravery
and the imprint
of his tiny feet…

It’s 3:22 p.m.
and I
welcome home
my four-foot soldier.

© Blake B., Highland Village, TX

The author's comments:
Although I am not a parent myself, I have always admired the strength of small children. It takes a great deal of courage to face the world every day, and I love watching children stumble off the school bus and make that transition from their school day back into the comfort of home.
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 2 comments.

CoffeeGirl17 GOLD said...
on Jul. 28 2013 at 12:03 pm
CoffeeGirl17 GOLD, Grand Rapids, Michigan
13 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;Life is like a bowl of cherries, with a few nuts thrown in.&quot;

View profile
Thank you for your comment!  I appreciate your feedback and am glad to know that I could offer a different perspective :)
TheSkyOwesMeRain GOLD said...
on Jul. 26 2013 at 11:27 am
TheSkyOwesMeRain GOLD, Irvine, California
13 articles 1 photo 299 comments

Favorite Quote:
Life isn&#039;t measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments which take your breath away.<br /> <br /> You are only as strong as your weakest link.

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I love your poem, especially since I've never thought of young children this way. :)