Track Meet

Running
 

 

The gun fires,
a distant shot slicing 

through
the heat.

 

And I am of,

racing down the scarlet track

sun beating down on

my shoulders.

 

Breathe.

Find a groove.

Stick with it.

Breathe.

 

I am in a stadium of 

noisy people

but right now

I am alone.

 

One lap down

and it's 

hard to 

breathe.

 

Half a lap to

go, 

and my legs

scream.

 

But I keep going,

heading towards the

orange tape,

Breathe.

 

I come in fourth.

The fastest I have

ever

run.

Breathe.