When I Played War

I once used a stick as my sword, And the gun I used it was my finger, Those memories in my mind they still linger, In my youth, when I played war. My missiles and bombs they were rocks, A trash can lid it was my shield, My backyard it became an enemy field, And the gloves I wore, they were my socks. I wore a bowl on my head for a helmet, My lunch in my paper sack they were my rations, Fighting and killing enemies were my passions, Then I smoked away, on a candy cigarette. When I scraped my knee I went to the medic, Where the nurse (my mom) gave me a band-aid, When patched up I went back to my tree base to invade, All enemies I was ready to fight, and them all I could lick! Now I think of my youth as I am not a boy anymore, I now carry real grenades and a knife and a gun, Battles and fighting and blood, it is no longer any fun, Now I do not any longer wish or want to play war. Randy L. McClave