Posted by Daddy on at 8:57 am

The little blue truck brought flowers to the grave
and returned to me empty, but full of sadness.

The little blue truck sits by my side,
and reminds me of a boy who doesn’t anymore.

The little blue truck reminds me of a stolen dream.
I have others, but each is priceless to me.

The little blue truck carries my harmonica
Sometimes I play songs to a boy who cannot hear them anymore.

The little blue truck belongs to a boy
who never knew its ceramic comfort.

The little blue truck is one of my most treasured possessions,
and I wish I’d never seen it.

The little blue truck rides on streets of gold,
driven by a golden-haired boy
through the goldest of my daydreams.