To Trevor on his 28th Birthday

Trevor and Me in NYC 2016

When boy, now man, takes up his crown,

Streaks of gold withdraw to brown,

Dimpled cheeks grow a kinky lawn.

The outer child is clearly gone.

Though his looks keep rearranging.

In his soul he’s never changing.

English, Irish, Swede and Pole

Are bits of him that make a whole.

His need in foreign tongues to chat,

The day he chose the sickly cat

And loved it ’til his touch it trusted,

The time he stole a roll, got busted,

Plus his fear to learn to swim

Are all the things that make him him.

The curious eyes, not quite gray,

Reveals the child who liked to play

Piano, sing and write at four.

What else are pianos for

Except to share what’s in the heart?

This part of him will not depart

No matter how his life must turn,

No matter the living he may earn.

In his castle, man is roi;

In his heart, he’s still that boy.