They exist.
They mingle, share, laugh, play,
Call the world their own–
In everything, they frame their world
in golden hues,
while they see themselves
as superheroes bursting
forth with backpacks
lined with yellow silk.
They grin loudly, then go inside
to glimpse that loving mother
one last time just to be sure
they’re safe,
and then, they
venture on,
the beautiful
boys I know.
Goodness lives still,
in the beautiful boys
I know.
Word Play 