but I ran faster,
breathless on clompy-clumsy big feet
catching her skipping tippy-tappy toes at asphalt’s edge,
my meaty mitt clamping down hard on her shoulder and pulling her back to the curb.
Too late, death made its missing grab for her,
hiring a careless teen chauffer,
and riding shotgun.
Teen foot pushing too hard the accelerator and turning
the hearse-colored thundering hot rod exhaled
foul breath that scrubbed our faces with its passing.
My daughter didn’t even cough.
I breathed a cry of belief.
That’s an attempt at poetry off the top of my head.
Stems from a real-life incident when a teen driving a truck turned the corner and almost ran my daughter down. My daughter was about to cross the street to my car.
So every time that song comes on the Christian Radio Station that I’m listening to less and less, the song by Superchick “We Live,” I get misty-eyed.
Nice song, overplayed and since my Dad died of colon cancer I’m not sure whether to let it play or switch to CD “The Muppet Show: Music, Mayhem and More! The 25th Anniversary Collection.”
Back to the driving motif:
My daughter and son have each cheated death from careless drivers.
So hey, drivers, give my children a chance to grow up, will ya?
In the meantime, I’ve been enjoying the children’s creativity.
I’m going to use this blog as my refrigerator door soon and post some of it.
That comes from inspiration at L.L. Barkat’s blog here:
And here’s a quote from Pablo Picasso.
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”
This by Cellist Pablo Casals:
“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are? We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel? You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.”
I’ll sing, “Jesus loves the little children” and leave ya’ll with that.
God’s peace and love to ya’ll.