Hurry, hurry.

Hurry hurry or I'll be late, 
Your fault, not hers, 
I want to say. 
Children shouldn't be rushed, 
shouldn't have to pay, 
for their parents bad timing, 
I want to say.
She skips, she jumps, 
flowered skirt twirling, 
dimples flashing. 
And I know, 
without a doubt, 
this child is loved. 
Hurry, hurry or I'll be late, 
She giggles, he smiles, 
they hold hands, 
and twirl. 


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