7 years old

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009. Filed under: childhood fatherhood poetry

7-yrs

“Seven”

Missing teeth.

Who needs meat.

I have eyes and ears

To feed on life.

Let’s go fast.

Let’s rocket blast.

I can climb the rope

To the top of the gym.

Tickle me.

Wrestle me.

You be the monster again, Dad.

Just the pretend kind.

I don’t like REAL monster Dad.

I am seven.

And I remember everything.

-Thunderbeard

November 18, 2009

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4 Responses

  • by sara varghese on November 18

    happy birthday!

  • by John Eells on November 18

    Happy Birthday Noa!
    (Nice poem dad)

  • by Joe on November 20

    I remember being seven. That was the year I broke my wrist. I remember doing 360s on my Kent BMX off the 4 foot ramp in the back yard. I remember playing Lightning at Bill and Chris Norwood’s house on their adjustable hoop. The bike adventures to places I will never find again were awesome. At that age everything I remember, I remember fondly, both good and bad. I think we just had so much fun, the bad just didn’t make a difference.

  • by thunderbeard on November 20

    Good memories Joe. Thanks for sharing that. Isn’t it amazing that Noa is now that kid?

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