When I Played War Poem by Randy McClave

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