Run!
Run, Sarah! Run!
Don't listen to your mother or your brother -
You're not going to fall,
Or poke your eye out on a stick.
For it's a beautiful day
Beneath the bright, golden rays of a winter sun,
On a lively, snow-strewn trail that winds
Past tall, bare trees and an icy stream,
And your puffy, pink parka is more than sufficient
Against the hint of a winter chill.
And if you slip or you trip,
If you take a tumble to the ground,
Then the worst that you'll suffer is a bruise,
And that will be a passing pain.
But if you stop,
If you let yourself be held back
And you slowly forget the joy
Of ground underfoot and wind in your hair,
The pain will last far longer.
So run, Sarah! Run!
And keep on running -
For maybe, someday, you'll fly.
(© 2013 Cassander)
Don't listen to your mother or your brother -
You're not going to fall,
Or poke your eye out on a stick.
For it's a beautiful day
Beneath the bright, golden rays of a winter sun,
On a lively, snow-strewn trail that winds
Past tall, bare trees and an icy stream,
And your puffy, pink parka is more than sufficient
Against the hint of a winter chill.
And if you slip or you trip,
If you take a tumble to the ground,
Then the worst that you'll suffer is a bruise,
And that will be a passing pain.
But if you stop,
If you let yourself be held back
And you slowly forget the joy
Of ground underfoot and wind in your hair,
The pain will last far longer.
So run, Sarah! Run!
And keep on running -
For maybe, someday, you'll fly.
(© 2013 Cassander)