Little Boy Blue
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue---
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!
Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place---
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face;
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.
Poem by Eugene Field (1850-1895)
Images by me and Ro-Ro
My day off yesterday and I am still completely flummoxed as to where the time goes. Hours at home go faster than hours in the office. In the still silence, I get the rare opportunity to look at the children's playthings and ornaments without them there, buzzing in and out and making lots of background noise. Toys do take on a rather mystical aura in the absence of their owners.
The day's ending, however, was the same delightful mix of swimming lessons followed by 'Movie Night'. Last night's feature was a Roald Dahl double: the BFG and Fantastic Mr Fox for Dad and the juniors, while Charly and I watched Julie and Julia on the laptop... in bed... and ate apple crumble there. Wicked! Bon Appetit!
