This time I had practised,
was well prepared for the half marathon we rise to take on this challenge, crowd glares on observant eyes,
a sprint to hide the undisclosed stories of times past tainting these minds, that entangle and bind,
a perfect mirror to prevent their demise, not yet I surely need some time to find space so that we can drown in our cloaks and disguise the bitter reality which we eventually come to prize,
As we glance up at the sky, clouds have parted, the stretch that lies ahead of our thighs, the ground beneath is rocky, still, unshaken, we focus our breath and get ready to bolt, fly, unleash the ties and drown out their carefully orchestrated cheers and cries.
It was not a goodbye, you are on the ground, to my side, both left and right, creating shapes in the light, a reflection of mine, a reflection of some kind,
…three small paces behind at all times ready to catch up, and sure enough you find me off guard at this given moment in time, propelling me to write this little rhyme,
because I am not going to be the type to say alright it’s fine when I can see all the signs warning me to cross this line with eyes that can connect the day and night,
a vision that decides which vice to pick the one worth these lines, and then the clock chimes, strikes ten past the hour, triggers that belonged to the night now arrive whilst the sun still shines, the race was won, the race was mine.