Lets sing together. Lets carve out dreams upon the sand. Lets walk along the beach, leave footprints that will be swallowed by the sea. If your hands are cold you can use my gloves. If your ears are cold you can use my hat. If the tide comes in I’ll carry you home. I’ll carry you back. I’ll make sure your feet don’t get wet.
Lets climb that mountain together. Lets take that first step and then the next. Lets journey into the clouds high above knowing others have been there before, following footsteps. If you slip on a loose rock I will catch you. If your shoulders are sore from the straps of you pack I’ll massage them. If the rain begins to fall I will build us a shelter. I’ll start a fire. I’ll keep it burning through the night.
Lets go running in the dark. Lets carve out swaths of light. Lets howl at the moon, wake all the neighbors on the block. If you lose your voice I’ll be sure to give it back. If you get nervous you can hold my hand. If you can’t see I will guide you. If the dark is too deep I’ll turn it into day. I’ll speed up time. I’ll make sure the sun rises on both our faces.
Lets swim together. Lets dive head first into frigid water. Lets warm it, leave ourselves dripping and cool on the dock. If you shiver you can huddle close. If the sun is too bright you can use my glasses. If the wind picks up wherever it sends you, I’ll go also. If you fall overboard I’ll dive down to find you. I’ll hold my breath. I’ll give you mine. I’ll pull you back to the surface.
As high as we go, as dark as things get, as light as things seem, as low it is, I’ll see you there. I’ll hold your hand. I’ll wrap you up. I’ll set you down. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll cover up. I’ll whisper light. I’ll fall asleep. You’ll fall asleep. We’ll fall asleep. The night will turn to day. The sun will rise. Tomorrow will be another chance–another chance to do all those things–together.
Winter Station 