We were three.
The memories are hazy now
but certainly there was a time
when we ran naked with reckless abandon,
we drew on each other with bright coloured crayons,
and fell clumsily on our noses in the playground.
We danced without a care in the world,
dug moats and buried treasure in the sand.
We dressed as pirates
It was Paraone St
and you were the king of the castle.
I am twenty, and you twenty-one.
The memories are hazy still
but certainly, there are those times,
when we run about naked without inhibition,
when we draw on each other with vivid,
and fall drunkenly to the ground.
We still dance without a care in the world,
and bury our friends in the sand.
We dress as pirates,
It was Weir
It is Wellington
And you are still the king of the castle.
(and a dirty rascal.)
Happy birthday kiddo. May you be forever young at heart.