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IMAGINATION.
His dad did not die a rich man…at least not materially…
but he left him something more endearing…a lasting memory.
His dad taught him how to imagine…how to imagine BIG…and small
and his imagination turned out to be one of his greatest gifts of all.
Together they’d wrote poetry…it was the best of times…
imagining silly stories…finding words that rhyme…
He was not surprised when his dad bequeathed him his old wooden ladder…rickety and patched…and not surprised to find, on the bottom rung, a note his dad attached.
‘Imagination is a gift,’ it read...‘cherish it everyday...
at times in life, when you seem lost..it will help you find your way…
I leave you my old wooden ladder…use it to climb up to the moon…
or to the clouds where you can watch the snow gently floating down in June.
Use it to climb atop a whale…imagine riding him out to sea
Use it to tame a fire-breathing dragon…or have a conversation with a tree.
My hope is that you’ll never forget the fun he had while rhyming…
And his ladder will be a reminder…to let your imagination do the climbing.
He thinks of his dad quite often while in the clouds imagining the snow gently floating down in June
And he imagines his dad is smiling…
every time he climbs his ladder to the moon.
