Once he ran the river, feet kissing the surf
as it rushed against the bank. His feet
moved in a blur, never landing on the earth;
They touched the waters, then flew free.

Now he runs a walker, heels dragging the dirt,
every step coming with more effort than he ever used to need.
He longs for the days before his soles hurt,
before Time broke his pride and capped both his knees.

When he was young, there was no force he couldn't exert,
now his feet touch the ground more than his pride can accede.
Fondly, he remembers the days before his soul hurt.
These days, kids call him "Old Man Allen";
         But back then...
                     his name was...
                                        *Speed.