Receding hairline, scared up hands from hard labor,

Not a day goes by he doesn’t wonder,

Yet the child locked deep inside wants to play

Boats, trains, motorcycles, remote control cars,

the toys he dreams of having one day.

While he works at this job in the day.

His nights are spent in the playground of his dreams,

Camping, hiking, horseback riding, fun and games,

Quicklly the time goes by time to face a new day,

Yet passing through all these windows

Hollow dreams of reality seep in to remind him of the daily routines,

Responsibilities, family friends, bills, insurance,

house payments, college funds, food, etc.

As he labors hard, a smile comes upon his face

Trade this life of hard times and broken dreams

She smiles at him; he embraces it and a thousand times more

Massaging those sore muscles to comfort him

As he falls asleep in the comfort of his bedroom

The dreams of all the toys come back to those days

When worries were less troublesome.

Playing hard, while becoming the man.