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Running
March 7, 2011
My breath is hampered, my face is bright red.
My legs are becoming weak and useless,
And now my hair is matted to my head,
From all my gross sweating I look a mess.
The hills seem to grow with each step of mine,
The wind whips my legs, as the cold grows worse.
I concentrate on the sidewalks cracked lines.
Blood pumps through my veins, my heart is the source.
When I run my world quickly whizzes by.
Running lets me contemplate my troubles,
My options seem to extend to the sky.
Running down the hill my slow pace doubles.
I start to head home, looking for my street,
Cleansing mind and body, running is a retreat.
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