Skinned knees.
Stuck, under a weathered Scooby-doo band-aide
Each scar marks it's own tale.
A quick flash of a crooked smile,
Leads a path headed towards imagination.
A race car, a ship of pirates,
A cruise to outer space or even
A magic carpet ride.
Wherever he may be, I want to go.
Tell Me.
Tell me a story my little red wagon boy.