Phillip at four

Tonka trucks and Matchbox cars,
Four short years and two small scars.
Hammers, nails, level, and square,
Twinkling blue eyes, curly blond hair.
Dump trucks, backhoes, dirty-faced kisses,
A mischievous grin, little boy wishes.
Giggles that lead to fits of delight,
Extra tight hugs and kisses goodnight.
Phillip is four and a joy to behold,
Although he doesn't always do as he's told.
Discovering the joys of being a guy,
Lately he likes to give burping a try.
"'Scuse me", he'll say, "but I just burped twice",
"Aren't you going to tell me my manners are nice?"
A little old man in the shape of a boy,
I'm blessed to count him as one of my joys.
Four years already, the days go too fast,
And like all good things I know this time won't last.
So for now I will treasure these little boy things,
Before they all slip away on time's golden wings.