The Little Things That Matter

The Girl Who Redused To Give Up

A girl joined our practice late.

She was kind, but she was bait.

They judge her of her scrawny features,

It got worse, she told the teachers.

They said it'll be okay,

It'll end soon one day.

Hiding her pain,

She dimmed and drained.

'practice is fun' she said

But her eyes were dim and look dead.

Everyday she'd watch them run

I wonder 'how is this fun?'

She was left behind.

Still, her smile was kind.

The girl still ran,

Saying 'I know I can'.

Her breaths were rough. Her footsteps slow.

Yet she still wished, to be apart of the show.

The day of the meet, her legs were shaking.

The silent still in the making.

She kept her eyes on the goal,

Dancing away, marked with a pole.

Her foot itched forward,

Silent prayer to her Lord.

She was ready to win a race,

Checked her shoes, tightly laced.

The shot was heard, footsteps pound.

Three miles later, there she was.

At the finish line, the people were a buzz.

Next you hear whispering her name,

Above all, in glory grain.