I have a friend,
She jumps hurdles.
She seems quiet,
In her zone,
Eyes focused on what's ahead,
I stand at one end of the stadium,
pretending to read a book,
But with eyes behind dark glasses,
I enjoy watching her in a different realm.
She runs up and down the field,
And stops to chat with different people,
Which I find encouraging,
Because she seems to not care who those people are,
Or that they have a past,
That may be filled with secrets as dark as my t shirt.
When its her turn to run,
She stands at the blocks,
The man says "ready"
But she treats it as if its a question
Because she goes down on one knee
And flips her hair over her left shoulder,
Pulls each leg of her spandex down,
As if it'll make them grow in length,
Which I find amusing.
The man with the gun says "set"
And she rises in the air before it goes off
And as it does,
She explodes outward like ocean mist
Hitting black cliffsides
And I wonder how she seems to bring her own sunset
Becasue as she runs,
The colors never leave her face
Even when she crosses the finish line.
The other runners must see it too,
Becasue they seem to slow their step
To watch her set out in front of them
Which I think is funny,
Because they don't even get to watch the clouds break
When she smiles after ******* In a few gusts of wind.
I like to watch all people do the things they love,
But maybe it means more when you're watching someone
you truly wish to be happy
No matter the cost of yourself.
I was Sitting underneath a tree
That was raining pieces of bark down around me
Maybe to try an make the scene more poetic
As if it could change itself into water.
I was deep in thought,
Which annoys me sometimes
Cause I think too much,
I was thinking about how the hurdler
Doesn't just run races
On harmless school fields,
Jumping tiny tables laid out for her.
She also jumps hurdles in her own life,
Which are usually much bigger,
But just like the start,
She seems to crouch down at the sight of the people and their guns,
And springs forward,
Pushing against the ground, not running away,
But conquering everything before her.
And when she gets done with her race,
I can't help but swell with pride,
Because even her running,
seems to create poems of her life.
She handles each hurdle with such grace,
a sort of beauty.
My eyes seem to always smile,
When I stand where I always am,
At the finish.
I stand at the end and not the start
Because just like in life,
I can't wait to see her conquer each hurdle
And meet me at the finish line
where ill always be,
With a smile,
Waiting for the hurdler.
For her to win.