| Never Forget -- Sept. 11 |
The Bicycle
What is the best gift for a boy
Or maybe a young man?
A cherished red bike that will
Take him over miles of land.
We bought him that gift
Our hearts bursting with pride.
We watched that bike
Take our boy over a long joyous ride.
He rode to school;
He rode to his job.
On weekends he rode hard;
His bike taking him up over that far knob.
Our boy grew up
Then he moved far away.
We waved good-bye and
Whispered “God Speed,” as we prayed.
His new job was high-up.
He was proud and prepared.
His bike stayed safe
Behind the garage door it faired.
Our boy's bike waits;
I polish away the dust.
I am thankful it will never know
A tear would create rust.
Our boy, you see,
Left us that day.
We watched on the news
We were so far far away.
A long journey we then took
And we searched with the Finest.
We left our boy there,
God knows-he’s at rest.
When we returned home
I went straight to our boy's bike.
I cried and I cried
My tears annointing his Last Rite.
Our boy's pride and his joy
Will always stay there.
In a corner in the garage
a bike waits for a boy so fare.
You see, on a day long ago
A day dark, full of evil.
Two buildings reached high-then
The whole world heard them tremble.
They fell-
One, then the other.
We watched in horror
Heard screams from son's mothers.
Our boy, in that horrible moment
I know cried for God's love.
One day, only God knows when,
I will watch His Son come from above.
All mothers will cry with cheers of gladness
When sons and daughters they will see.
And I will then discover a shiny red bike
And our boy peddling towards his dad and me.
Copyright Kathleen M. Brosius September, 11, 2011
Inspired after watching an interview with some moms who
lost a son on that day
What is the best gift for a boy
Or maybe a young man?
A cherished red bike that will
Take him over miles of land.
We bought him that gift
Our hearts bursting with pride.
We watched that bike
Take our boy over a long joyous ride.
He rode to school;
He rode to his job.
On weekends he rode hard;
His bike taking him up over that far knob.
Our boy grew up
Then he moved far away.
We waved good-bye and
Whispered “God Speed,” as we prayed.
His new job was high-up.
He was proud and prepared.
His bike stayed safe
Behind the garage door it faired.
Our boy's bike waits;
I polish away the dust.
I am thankful it will never know
A tear would create rust.
Our boy, you see,
Left us that day.
We watched on the news
We were so far far away.
A long journey we then took
And we searched with the Finest.
We left our boy there,
God knows-he’s at rest.
When we returned home
I went straight to our boy's bike.
I cried and I cried
My tears annointing his Last Rite.
Our boy's pride and his joy
Will always stay there.
In a corner in the garage
a bike waits for a boy so fare.
You see, on a day long ago
A day dark, full of evil.
Two buildings reached high-then
The whole world heard them tremble.
They fell-
One, then the other.
We watched in horror
Heard screams from son's mothers.
Our boy, in that horrible moment
I know cried for God's love.
One day, only God knows when,
I will watch His Son come from above.
All mothers will cry with cheers of gladness
When sons and daughters they will see.
And I will then discover a shiny red bike
And our boy peddling towards his dad and me.
Copyright Kathleen M. Brosius September, 11, 2011
Inspired after watching an interview with some moms who
lost a son on that day