And so she took my hand and said,
“Come take to the air with me,
Why rest your head, and stay in bed,
When we could fly and be free?”
But with a sigh, I don’t know why,
I turned and spurned her plea,
“Flying in the morning light,
Is not for likes of me”.

So then she shook my arm and said,
“Come travel the roads with me,
We’ll see the fields, the farmers yield,
And see what creatures see.”
But with a scowl, a surly growl,
I hid beneath the sheets,
“It’s far too far to walk the roads,
And who knows who’d we meet?”

So then she kissed my head and said,
“Come take to the sea with me,
We’ll see the ships, the waves that whip,
The dolphins in their glee.”
But with a moan, to be alone,
I bid her let me rest,
“Such cold and wet and fright’ning yet,
We’d be swept out to the west.”

And so she bid farewell to me,
And travelled near and far,
I often think aloud and say,
“I wonder where you are?
Upon the sea, on hidden roads,
Or up above the clouds?”
But all is said with sweet regret,
I wish I’d travelled now.