They call me Alaurilee

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I've been writing poetry from the age of 12. It has, and always will be my outlet, my voice. Join me on my journey . . . I can write about almost anything. :) ~ Life doesn't come with a shiny new book; no users manual of answers to find with one look. Life comes with doors that open and shut; and paths laid before us to be followed or passed up. There's things we can learn and things we may teach; hearts that may find us and souls we may reach. Guaranteed on this journey are teacups of tears; and pains that might hurt us may age us by years. But the beauty of life, love, laughter and giving; come from serving hugs on a platter each and every day we're living. ~

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Childhood Magic


                       Photo from google images

Magic to me was Mr. Bojangles,
with his big rig diesels he drove
and those twinkling bright blue eyes.

Bojangles they called him on the CB Radio
but to us he was know as our dad.
A man who loved burgers and fries.

I learned to climb like a monkey
up into and all around that truck.
I simply could not get enough.

A rough and tumble tom-boy,
who loved working with my dad.
I wasn't scared to be greasy and tough!

The trips were adventures
on the white lined highway.
Honking the horn here and there.

I'd flash lights at the passing trucks
with the toggle switch on the dash,
as they would pass us with care.

The people we would meet
in truck stops along the way,
just loved to entertain tots.

There once was a  nice man
who made music with spoons,
Oh, how I liked him, lots!

Sometimes we would stop and see,
people we loved, our family.
It was nice seeing people we knew.

I talked dad into that puppy
while at Aunties in Sacramento.
Then, in the truck, he pooped in dads shoe!

Then that time in Des Moines, Iowa,
a rare time we stayed in a motel.
It had a pool and I just knew I could swim.

I jumped in the deep end
and floundered a bit too long
and poor dad, fully dressed, jumped in.

I will never forget the magic,
the memories and the adventures,
of my childhood life with my dad.

And even though he's now passed on
he lives on in my heart and my soul,
as the best childhood magic I had.


Written for Think Tank Thursday - Nov. 4th

The real magic wand is the child’s own mind
~Jose Ortega y Gasset

To a child magic is amazing possibilities, to a romantic it’s what happens when you fall in love and to a scientist it is something to be scoffed at, magic is something to everyone. What is magic to you?

It could be a familiar smell that brings back a memory, maybe it is silence to a frazzled mother or it might be the wonders of technology, any way you look at it magic means something to everyone. This week use your pen as a magic wand and share with us the magic in your world.