Oh, for the simple pleasure of boyhood days.
Toy soldiers, worn and tattered from the frays,
Painted expressions long since rubbed from view,
Vicious battles had whittled my troops to two.
The faceless duo still stands staunch in place,
Awaiting my command, and fierceness of my battle face.
Train cars lined the perimeter of a rickety old track,
The engine; white hot smoke pouring from her stack.
The multicolored cars swirling, merely now a blur,
My urgent need for speed, the engineer did not concur.
I backed the throttle down a bit, atop the track she’d stay;
The engineer tipped his hat, and flashed a smile my way.
I summoned outlaws and cattle thieves, oh so rough and tough.
My sheriff’s badge and lawman eyes always called their bluff.
Slick Sam had robbed the coach, left three passengers for dead;
He left a bloody trail to follow, two women full of lead.
In the street he made his fatal choice, deciding he should draw;
My .45 barked twice, reminding him you can’t outrun the law.
I quickly survey the area, making certain I’m alone;
Not a little boy on the floor, but a man who’s fully grown.
Even the blind soldiers without their painted eyes,
Have no trouble seeing through my manly-like disguise.
The engineer welcomes me with his wry and gnarly grin,
He also can see past the man I am, to the boy within.