I read today, within the press
About a 7 year-old girl
Her name was Sailor Gutzler, and
She kept on walking, though faced hell.

She'd lost her Mum. She'd lost her Dad.
Her Sister and her Cousin too.
She, the one fated to live
Despite the horror She'd been through.

Their small plane crashed within the woods
She was so well and truly lost.
Bleeding. Crying. Total pain.
She made her way through bark and frost.

She'd walked a mile to find a house
Broken fist and Bleeding knees,
Her shoes were gone, Her feet were cold
Without no-one there but tall, hard trees.

I had to raise her name so that
Our thoughts and prayers can reach her side
I'd have been too weak and quit.
She's 7 and made it stride by stride