Slow Dance

This poem was sent to me in one of those forwarded e-mails. You know the kind. They tug at the heart and urge the receiver to keep forwarding it to others.

The poem was supposed to have been written by a little girl who is dying of cancer. A bit of online research soon revealed that no such little girl exists and that the poem was actually written by David L. Weatherford.

While I didn't forward the e-mail, I did think the poem was lovely and worthy of sharing here. This and some of Mr. Weatherford's other writings can be found here.

Slow Dance

 

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,

or listened to rain slapping the ground?

 

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight,

or gazed at the sun fading into the night?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,

time is short, the music won't last.

 

Do you run through each day on the fly,

when you ask "How are you?", do you hear the reply?

 

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,

with the next hundred chores running through your head?

 

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,

time is short, the music won't last.

 

Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow,

and in your haste, not see his sorrow?

 

Ever lost touch, let a friendship die,

'cause you never had time to call and say hi?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,

time is short, the music won't last.

 

When you run so fast to get somewhere,

you miss half the fun of getting there.

 

When you worry and hurry through your day,

it's like an unopened gift thrown away.

 

Life isn't a race, so take it slower,

hear the music before your song is over.