My Children, Creatures of the Wild

By Lovely Tramp

My children, born of the wilderness,
Raised in wild places where the earth breathes deep.
I watch them grow tall among the trees,
Like saplings stretching toward the sky,
Their roots anchored in the soil of adventure,
Their spirits nourished by the pulse of life.

Bro, my gentle dreamer,
A mind brimming with questions, a heart full of wonder.
He kneels beside the smallest forms of life,
Hands cradling the world in its most delicate forms,
Coaxing whispers from wings and leaves,
His eyes alight with the joy of discovery.
The hum of a cicada, the flutter of a moth—
These speak to him in languages we cannot understand,
The quiet secrets of nature that only he can hear.

Super Tramp, my fearless warrior,
Born to the wind, the rocks, the relentless climb.
He charges through the mountains with strength beyond measure,
Each step a drumbeat, each mile a song of endurance.
He laughs in the face of steep ridges,
His heart steady, his spirit unshaken,
The leader of us all, unwavering and true.
Yet in the stillness of night, he softens,
Whispering dreams to the dark—
Tales of courage woven from the quiet depths of his heart.

Ice Cream Sandwich, the wild one,
Eyes deep as rivers, spirit untamed as the storm.
He races ahead, fire in his soul,
Curiosity burning bright, never to be extinguished.
He knows plants and winds, floods and flame,
Calling them by name, speaking the language of wonder.
He dances barefoot in the rain, free as the wind,
His laughter ringing through the valleys,
His joy boundless as the skies above.

Together, they are my wilderness children,
Bound by earth and stars,
Growing in the open spaces where the wild things live,
Their souls shaped by the rhythm of wind and water,
By the whisper of distant trails,
And the ancient stories the mountains tell.

Each day, they teach me how to be wild,
How to love this world not in fragments but in its entirety.
To find beauty in the quiet places,
Where only children, unburdened by time, dare to roam.

As the sun dips low and shadows grow long,
I watch them, my children of the wild,
And I see the wilderness reflected in their eyes.

My children, bearers of the earth’s spirit,
You carry the wisdom of the woods, the freedom of the skies. In you, I see the future—untamed, unbroken,
And endlessly, beautifully wild.