On Manhood

There once was a boy, as boys often are,

With his head in the clouds and his dreams set afar.

He'd leap over puddles, he'd wiggle his nose,

He'd wear mismatched socks and holey old clothes.

With a laugh and a hop and a head full of play,

He thought only of now and forgot yesterday.

Rules were just words, boring lines on a page,

For a boy of such spirit was hard to cage!

But then one fine day, quite out of the blue,

He looked in the mirror—“Who’s that, oh who?”

A shadow of whiskers! His shoulders were wide!

A deep, rumbly voice echoed out from inside!

The boy was now puzzled, he scratched at his chin,

For he felt something stirring—a feeling within.

"Could it be, could it be, I’m becoming a man?

Should I trade in my fun? Start a practical plan?”

He wondered aloud, in his grand, silly way,

"Must I be all grown up and serious today?

Is life about suits, and briefcases, and ties,

And grown-up pursuits and saying goodbyes?”

But then came a voice, clear and true as a bell,

"You need not bid farewell to what you love well.

A man can still dream, still wiggle and play,

While thinking of others along the way."

So he grew up a man, but a boy he remained,

With a heart full of wonder that couldn't be tamed.

He learned to be kind, to be strong, to be true,

And found that being silly was manly too.

Now if ever you meet him, wherever you go,

You'll know he’s a man with a boy’s joyful glow.

For the mark of true manhood, the wise always say,

Is to laugh and be kind, and remember to play.