A boy and a truck
A boy on his bicycle rides in front,
I wonder if he has seen that great steep hill.
I\'m in my truck, big, structured and tough
But he is small, with less power, no shield.
With one glance over his shoulder,
The panicked look spreads across his face.
There he was climbing up this boulder,
Feeling under pressure, his legs pick up the pace.
He scrambles, he wobbles, upon this great ascent,
Probably feeling troubled that he may roll back by accident.
If only he knew that the truck behind does not want him to hurry,
The truck behind wants him to make it to the top and not worry.
To not worry about his size, his energy, his speed,
But to just focus on the top of that hill at whatever pace he needs.
Because the truck once also faced that same journey alone,
And needed the support of the truck behind to reach that milestone.