He left me this old wooden ladder...rickety...and patched...

and on it, twisting in the breeze, he left this note attached:


“When you were young you used this ladder to touch the sun

to kiss the clouds creating the snowflakes that fell to Earth in June

and do you remember how you use to smile

when you’d climb this ladder…to the moon?


When you soared with the birds high in the sky…

do you remember all the wonders you could see

as you rode a fire-breathing dragon…

or had a conversation with a tree...’ 


‘Your imagination is a gift,’ the note went on to say

Feed it, nurse it, nurture it,…‘cherish it everyday’.


I still use that rickety old ladder 

And oh what wonders I still see

When I ride that fire-breathing dragon

or have my conversations with the trees...’ 


When I climb way up to touch the sun

when I kiss the clouds creating snowflakes that fall in June…

and I imagine he is up there smiling…

every time

I climb my ladder to the moon.

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