How to write a poem to you when words,
which I love, won’t tell whole story of who you are
to me? I narrow my focus to today, compose
these thoughts on this, your birthday.

A good number, 11 – two ones standing tall
together, towers of transition. Changes in store.
Already you would venture out into future world,
cut a path to success all your own.

From here you can see both ways clear –
harbor of childhood’s innocent liberty and
bustling downtown streets, tangled highways
leading who knows where.

But, back to 11. Take eleven, drop an ‘e,’
and you get “Elven.” You know how I love Elvish
in your favorite world beyond –  that of Tolkein’s
trilogy that stands the test of time! So,

eleven is magic and more. Imagine the feeling
you get in Harry Potter when Ron finally gets it right.
“Wingardium Leviosa,” he says with just the right affect
like his friend Hermione, girl with the funny name.

Well, that’s the feeling of 11. You’re not just
a kid, anymore. Things rise to a new level; they’re more.
New ideas, new friends, new interests, new you.
But best of the best of the old you, too.

Child of mine, you will always be child of mine.
As you wander farther, fly free, remember you’ve place
of belonging with me. My love stretches beyond reach
of your bright future. And it’s taller than 11 feels.