Just a Boy, a Ukulele, and a Dream

March 14, 2010
By TheMaisinator BRONZE, Leeds, Maine
TheMaisinator BRONZE, Leeds, Maine
4 articles 0 photos 15 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination."
~Robert Fulghum


I'm not sure he really knew
Of all the things
He was gonna do
Before his time on earth slid to a halt.
An inspiration to us all
Raising money for a cause
When he barely had the time left for himself.
He was a talent and a joy
Just a simple teenage boy.
Or at least that's how he always made it seem.
But we knew him as an angel, a camper, and a friend.
Just a boy, a ukulele, and a dream.
He would sing and laugh and smile.
Ran whole-hearted that last mile.
He did everything he could till he was done.
He was caring, he was kind.
Made a hand print on mankind
Now I'm glad he's found his place beside the sun.
I wanted to call but I think I was scared
That it just wouldn't feel quite right.
I don't think I believed it would be the last chance.
Now I think about it every night.
Our senior year at camp together.
Didn't think it'd be the last.
I wonder if it would've been different at all.
But no one can change the past.
I wish I could write this in the clouds.
So you can read it from up there.
But I'm forced to write it on paper
So I'll just say it in a prayer.
These words will float like bubbles
So you can listen way up high.
And you'll hear them while you play
Your ukulele in the sky.

The author's comments:
So last summer, a good friend of mine from camp passed away. It was the first time I had lost anyone close to me. It doesn't flow very well and the rhymes are a bit sketchy, but it just needed to get out. He played ukulele and made a CD to raise money for cancer patients, like himself. He did good until the day he died. Rest in Peace, my dear.

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