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.
Tell us your story.
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