The Lesson

The small boy ran with a gurgle of joy;
The rest of us sat as the aircraft flew.
He raced up the aisle then careered anew;
Each journey adventure for this small boy.

Seems we were content, on our journey bent,
To be borne sedate from cradle to grave.
His joyful excursions skipped on the stave,
Butterfly movements, but we were content.

Innately we know that life is for play;
Meanderings give the greatest delight.
They do not alter the length of the flight
But they make each day a little less grey.