The Chase

The way your laughter echoes
As you leave me far behind,
Sweeter than a windchime bell

A song I can't quite find...

And when we rest upon lush grass
You look me in the eye;
Flushed and giddy from the run,
And laughing 'till you sigh...

I'll follow you forever;
I'll die here in this race.
For when you let me hold your hand,
You make it worth the chase.