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The Race
Frantic feet beat cement pathways,
I race past breath and rest,
Dry tongue clings to sandpaper roof and cheeks,
Heavy heart pounds inside my chest.
Winds whip about my hair and face
to dry my dampened brow.
Victory, lags behind me,
Change its place, I don't know how.
My lane is mine, I stay within,
Competitors cross the line,
Aiming for my feet to lose their grasp
They think speed affects my time.
I'll reach the line called "finish",
Not when others deem it so,
Not swift, nor expeditious,
Ready, set, go!!
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