Run for the Hills

By Hannah Bertalot

‘Cross the stream, we’re running out of steam.

If we look behind, we get chills. 

The forest is haunted by monsters who hunt for the thrill.

So we run for the hills, and run like the breeze -

At least those who wish to free themselves from a fate lost in the trees. 

We do not stop, do not freeze.

So long as we run, there stands a lasting hope; 

So we wait for the sun, and look for the slope.’

We pass this letter on to you, with the impression that you can make it, too.