Baton Pass

BATON PASS

Every lover is a baton

Beautifully wrapped with ribbons of gold.

Knotted flawlessly after countless attempts

All night spent twisting the fabric

Round and round.

He likes the work of his hands

So proud of it

To show it to his neighbors

The achievement of a lonely child.

But the race must go on

For to the finishing line all must cross.

And what good is the baton when in tired hands?

She must go on.

It is his duty to hand

The baton he so treasure

To the finisher and celebrates as he

Looks from afar, the baton cross that line.

By The Feather Pencil Chronicles