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Tweet tweet my birdie, tweet

Sweet sweet my birdie, sweet

 

When your heart does beat

For the love you meet

Give her your golden seat

She’ll be at your feet

 

Tweet tweet my birdie, tweet

Sweet sweet my birdie, sweet

 

Night night birdie.

Hey Santa,

I’ve never written to you before. I don’t think you know me. But I know you, through pictures and movies. Sorry it took me this long to write. I know you travel all over the world. But I didn’t care for you to visit, before today. It’s not me I want you to come for. It’s him. My son. He waits for you. He has written you a letter. It’s with me if you want to read it. He expects your gifts under the Christmas tree when he wakes up in the morning. Do drop by.  We don’t have a chimney. But I’m sure you can find your way in. Has he been good? He has been. He’s a good boy. My boy. I love him. Please make him happy.

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“Hey, old friend.  Remember the day you betrayed me.  It’s been years.  But I haven’t forgotten. The bitter taste still lingers on my tongue.

Hey, old friend.  Remember when I showed you how to kick a ball, dunk a basket, hit a home run.  The other boys laughed, only I stood by you.  But then you gave me your back.  The clench of my fist still hasn’t loosened.

Hey, old friend.  Remember when I taught you how to shave your chin, style your hair, pick your clothes.  You came out looking good for the girls.  But then you denied me.  The punch in my chest still sinks deep.

Hey, old friend.  My little boy sits next to your little boy in class.  I said to him, ‘His father was an old friend.’  But I didn’t tell him of your bitter tasting, chest punching, fist clenching betrayal.  I taught my son well, I hope you have taught yours better.”

just a little dream to dream.

like the little boy does, with his little toy boat, in the little bathroom sink, making little water splashes, among little rubber fishes, under the soft ceiling light.

just a little dream to dream.

we can sail weekend boats, and cruise blue waters, trail white sea foam, pass silver fishes swimming, and soak the golden sun above.

with just a little dream to dream.

throw the tooth

behind the sun,

far, far behind the sun,

and ask for a gazelle’s tooth in place of the donkey’s tooth,

behind the sun,

far, far behind the sun,

my Son.

Based on regional folklore, children are told to throw their milk teeth (traditionally nicknamed donkey teeth) behind the sun, and ask the sun to give permanent teeth (traditionally nicknamed gazelle’s teeth) in their place.

The bell rings.  The classroom door swings open.  The children run out to the playground.

Amongst them is the leader.  He leads the children.  The children follow his every move, his every word, his every command.

While at the far end of the playground stands a timid boy, an onlooker, unwelcomed by the leader, unwelcomed by his followers.  He stands alone.

Twenty years onward.  The timid boy creates something amazing for the people.  The people follow his every move, his every word, his every inspiration.

While at the far end of the world stands the once glorious leader, with no one to lead.