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Original photo by Laura Lavallee

The Great Surfer
A tribute to childhood.

I fill my pockets
with dragons,
that live between the pebbles
    and petals I left there.

They fly out of my pockets
    whenever I smile
    or the sun shines
    and when it is cloudy too.

I have more confidence,
    I have more potential
    than any lawyer or doctor
I build things grander
    than all the carpenters of the world.

I sing into microphones
    made from balls of string.
And the world listens.

I can count up to fifteen or so,
    and I’m only three and three quarters.
But my mind sees to infinity.

I jump fearlessly off cliffs,
    onto the rocky pillows of my bed below.

I organize the animals of the forest,
    for feasts I prepare,
of strawberry shortcake on blocks.

I cut my own hair without a mirror.

I am strong.

I am strong enough to openly cry,
    when I am upset.
And to seek the arms I know support me,
    when I am in need.

And when I am at the beach,
    I see the surfers who adore me.

For I am the Great Surfer;
I named myself.

Among the waves I meditate my next move.

 
 


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