Sun, 05/11/2014 - 12:57 -- tcooney

Wake up.

Get ready.

Go to work.

Come home.



If this was truly our lives,

They would not be lives at all.

What makes us tick?

What is our call?


A passion born inside

Is why I awake.

To find every day anew,

And create my own wake.


Passion for everything,

As friends might say.

But for me, it is simpler,

Something from day to day.


The smile on my mother’s face,

As I kiss her good morning.

And the cool wind in my hair

Stepping on the gas, with little warning.


Skiing, and teaching,

And climbing and cheer

It’s the things I awake for,

These things I hold dear. 


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