For months and for months she would shake her head,
And choose to walk on her knees instead.
No matter what we did or what we said,
Walking to her was something to dread.
Her poor little knees were so sorry and sore,
From the weight of the walking and running they bore.
That her feet were there, she chose to ignore,
As walking to her was a bit of a chore.
Then all of a sudden, one day in the sun,
She walked right in front of us, stumbled then spun
Round on her heels, then fell on her bum,
And walking to her became something quite fun.
So little by little her confidence grew,
Such determination and drive shining right through.
Tumbles and falls, there were surprisingly few,
Given walking to her was still really quite new.
And now you can’t stop her, she’s fierce and she’s bold.
She runs place to place, rarely stopping to hold
Onto our hands, for if the truth be told,
Walking to her is a joy to behold!
Lovely lovely poem Claire. Gorgeous pics love them all. Well done – love and miss you xx
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That’s the honest truth, what a beautiful saying. I like it!