The Race

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the starter pistol rang . . .

I began with a sprint . . .

racing in the Olympics of life . . .

chasing the bronze, silver, and gold . . .

hell I’m going for platinum . . .

I was that confident . . .

heading straight for the finish . . .

in a hurry thinking I’ll get there first . . .

~0~

near the end of the track . . .

I jumped over a hurdle . . .

stumbled and fell . . .

vomited wretchedness . . .

paused and struggled . . .

to catch my breath . . .

I want a do over . . .

thinking it was . . .

a trial run . . .

~0~

so . . .

~0~

I’m flipping from December . . .

to November to October and September . . .

from 2015 to 2014 back to 1999 . . .

wishing for 1976 . . .

when I started running . . .

this time . . .

I’ll take it nice and easy . . .

I’ll be mindful . . .

taking a steady pace . . .

I find . . .

I’m no longer in a rush . . .

©Kimberly Wilhelmina Floria

8/24/15