At the top of a very tall hill a toboggan sits,
waiting for someone to ride it on down.
And I think to myself, every time I pass by,
that as soon as it snows I will take it to town.
As it sits on its hill, does it dream of the day
it will whistle and blur on its way down the slope?
By itself it can’t move, but that just goes to show
even those who must wait still can always find hope.
I love the written word more than anything else I've had the chance to work with. I'm back in the States from Japan for grad school, but still studying Japanese with the hope of becoming a translator -- or writer, or even teacher -- as long as it's something language-related.
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