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My Boy

From The Topeka State Journal, November 6, 1912.
By Olive Martin.

 Gone is the loud din and noise,
 Put away are all the toys.
 All youthful things are out of sight,
 One can’t find a ball or kite.
 No cap lays on the parlor chair,
 No jacket on the front hall stair.
 No one slams the kitchen door,
 No one spots the hallway floor.
 I strain my ears to catch the sound
 Of footsteps down the stairway bound,
 But all is quiet overhead;
 I cannot hear the slightest tread.
 I miss my boy’s loud, cheery call,
 His whistle, merriment and all.
 I miss the boyish face so dear,
 The big gray eyes, serene and clear.
 You wonder that I am not sad
 And that my heart is very glad?
 You think I should regretful be,
 And in my loss no goodness see?
 To you the secret I will tell,
 Assuring you with me all’s well;
 My boy has grown to manhood tall,
 So I am happy after all.

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