And after all is done, you might look to me as I run, after all it’s just a chance I take. That my stars will still fall, my lightning mystery moonbeam, will still call. And I will feel the wind touch my hair, break out of this puzzle, a body left on dare, and after all, I will fly away. After all.
The kid in me would like to grow tall, leap over buildings, and watch as I fall. The joy in my ethos would like to convince you of a call, attention is a moment, but many moments make an all. For unto me, that’s born where stars fall, a creek a meadow, a kid who just saw, himself an old man in a mirror in the hall. Oh my, such passion, to climb that fourteener there, to write a Hardy Boy story, maybe one that really scares. To feel the wind just touching my gray hair, I’m not really old so there is no need to really stare. I’m the child in after all, a Trojan hiding in after all.
In after all, the moon is made of sand, it harbors Tom Swift, and his flying lab of glam. I twist and shout forget how old I am, and see the rooftop where stars imagine it’s the summer when Carter ran. Oh New Mexico a story, those summers in the sand.
Is it just old me, or does anybody else see in after all, there’s treasures that mend a soul, it could be internal, a spiritual kind of virtual, that plants the seeds that blossoms one’s mind. Why is it said that to go back is so bad, when sometimes the best lessons are free? In after all the boy in me, didn’t ever see the need to have anything but just love. And just because it feels the air, my answer still is filled with care from just in me a kid, my thoughts are random and kind. Not the same in adulthood one might find.
The kid in me would like to own all the seas, and hoist the Jolly Roger above the leaves. Of the fair immortal tree house of my mind. And when after all the stories had been told, I would like to find a secret passage and understand. Why mystery invigorates the boy in me who holds the old gray haired man in his hand.
And after all is done, you might look to me as I run, after all it’s just a chance I take. That my stars will still fall, my lightning mystery moonbeam, will still call. And I will feel the wind touch my hair, break out of this puzzle, a body left on dare, and after all, I will fly away. After all.
The Latin form of Daniel Immortal is “O Daniel,” For my son Daniel Ryan π – 05.04.2016 β ΧΦΈΦΌΧ Φ΄ΧΦ΅ΦΌΧΧ
What a wonderful writing to your son. It’s beautiful!
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He is well worth it. Thank you Erin.
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And again Daniel! π
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Well after all! π
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O Daniel! (Sigh) π
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I know, I know. π
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Yes what she said. This is wonderful. Xoxo
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Thank you. It was a fun write. π
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I could tell! π
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Your kind of like Tom Sawyer! β€
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Hey I like that Heather. Going to post a little Rush with this piece. Thank you.
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Glad I could help, and I love it!
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This is full of life, I love it.
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Thank you, happy you liked it.
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What a cool old boy he must be! π
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He would like to think so Ronda! π
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