‘the boy who would leap’
He’s somewhere between thirty & forty.
Perhaps fifty. Maybe sixty.
He wants to play. Without
prescription.
He wants to stamp. And to stomp.
And to run. And to leap
from chair to chair.
He wants to shout. And to scream
words he just made up.
At the top of his voice.
And not to look at who’s looking.
He wants to tell his best friend
it’s OK to make believe. And
to tell his parents that he loves them.
Perhaps he will.
Tomorrow.
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