( A mother recalls how her son , the storyteller, evolved.)

(Poem by Wendy Howe )

That summer
when you had an ear infection
and could not swim, you sat
a blonde boy in a large chair
accompanied by a bear.

The scent of mint leaves
and lemon cooled the heat,
the gold shimmer of tea
brightened the room's silence
and matched your companion's fur.

He guarded you from boredom
and envy as your sisters splashed
and splayed the water
with fingertips chasing dragonflies.

His presence stirred thought
while his eyes mirrored the longing
of animals displaced in a land
where they used laughter and curious
intellect to adapt.
You understood this need to cope,
coaxing adventure
out of strange circumstances.

Here, was something unique, a toy
stuffed with more than raw fibers
of the silk cotton tree. Here , your potential
was sewn up yet slipping out
as sunlight draped the chair
and unfinished daydreams
remembered your place.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.
To know more about Wendy Howe

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Thomas, l'Ours et Goldorak

(Drawing by )

mfr481, Thomas, l'Ours et Goldorak

© 2011,

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