Alex Young, Grade 12
2017 Fall Ambassador
When harsh words, did tumble,
Out from my pink mouth,
You did not scorch me
With burning words of scorn,
Or drag me out to shiver
Before the cold truth of winter.
With a gentle hand upon my shoulder,
You taught me for once to see the face
Of my brother, four years my elder,
To me, four whole years me better.
Hand in mine, you took me out
To the beautiful red, blue playground,
Set upon woodchips, with a tiny sandbox.
I remember the sand, crusting your jeans.
It was the first time that I learned
It’s rough, course inevitability.
But you did not care about its nature.
Sand smeared, hands cupped, hose full tilt,
You taught me to cherish the creation.
The wonderful comes only from the messy.