Running Without Freedom
By: Winluck Wong
Geysers of dust erupt in my wake,
Fretting to threaten with the opaque
To blur and obscure the earnest prints
That outline signs of my existence.
She traces her way through a paved path,
With grace from ne’er facing dusty wrath -
A zephyr preferring her content
With imparting no mark on pavement.
Stone shards and roots of gnarled menace
Flex to be the next great nemesis,
Which serves to spur me to hurdle high
And land with a stamp none can deny.
Through the leafy maze our gazes meet
And I falter to a halt mid-beat.
There’s a vested question her eyes spun -
A cry of: why must you strive to run?
I want to leap clear of my trail
And learn from her every detail.
I want to embrace her pace of peace
So that our slow strolls would never cease.
But woe to our roads being different,
Cursed to diverge though so adjacent.
A bend approaches – the moment’s gone.
To atone alone, I must sprint on.
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