Someone once called you
Snips, Snails, Puppy-Dog Tails -
but I know you

and you are
mud-puddle-splashing and
secret-fort-building and
living-room-floor-wrestling and
sometimes even sweet-sibling-hugging

you are
coated with the dust and dirt of
boyhood play -
high-top tennis shoes and falling-down socks
blistered palms from too much free-throw practice
chlorine-damp hair from a splashy cannonball dive into the pool

you are
eating your veggies
only with the promise that they'll make you big and strong

you are
giggling in your pj's at Saturday morning cartoons

you are
letting the dog lick your face and

you are
laughing

you are
scrubbed and tubbed
hair combed (until
it rumples on your pillow
when you settle in to sleep)

and there in your dreams
you are
a cowboy, a fireman,
a dump-truck driver,
an astronaut,
Michael Jordan

but in my dreams
(my daydreams and my night dreams)
you are
a grown, gentle man with
a lighted smile, shining eyes -
you are
in candlelight,
kissing your beautiful new bride -
you are
in night-light,
singing soft lullabies to your babies in their beds,
and smoothing their bath-damp hair

for I know you and
that's what my little boy is made of