March 27, 2004

March 27, 2004

Rebecca Engberg

In the church cultural hall

Laughing, playing games, having a ball;

Riding on the chair racks

My foot slips through the cracks.

Falling to the floor,

No one is laughing anymore;

Dark red blood all around,

White as a ghost, I can’t make a sound.

Panic and chaos fill the room

‘Cause I may be dead soon.

Someone is helping me

But I can’t really see.

One tear falls from my cheek.

“Am I going to die?” is all I speak.

Arms around me so tight,

Now I’ll never be out of their sight.

A Priesthood blessing keeps me strong.

All I can do now is hang on

And enjoy the ride.

Well, at least I tried.

Stitch me up, I’m ready to go.

Friends and family come and show

How much they care and love

And glad that I’m not looking from above.

I’m going to be here a while; I know that’s true

‘Cause I am as good as new.