The Freshest of Air

We ran through the wintery cold and the snow; through the rain and the gusts of winds that would blow.

We ran as fast as we could 'til our lungs burned a bit; our hearts beating fast; our fires were lit.

And I wondered if all knew this act of self care; of moving one’s feet out in the freshest of air.

What if the world went outside every single day; to just capture the joy that comes from simple play?

May we never grow up too much we forget; to laugh, move and breathe when days are cold, stormy and wet.

-Written with love and burning lungs.