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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1988034-Endurance
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1988034
A poem about the sensation of running, a pastime that never fails to content the soul
Each step is slow
Throat arid in the suffocating air
My lungs whistle desperately
Trying to keep pace with my
Legs
Contracting
Slowly
Sweat cascading
Droplets fall onto a content expression
Rays of light
Only slightly blinding
Squinting desperately
Breathing
Inhaling
Exhaling
The incline is deeper, damper
Feet moving in a familiar rhythm, hitting the gravel tiredly but
With resolve
Exhale
all breath has been dispersed
into the stunning milieu of the morning forest
The soil is mossy, dewy
Alive
Ridges of rubber fall into the cavernous path of sand
Buckling occasionally
Awkward staggering as the inevitable fatigue caresses the limbs, begging for surrender
Alas
No surrender….
The grand incline has arrived
Limbs now flail euphorically
In the wind
Gathering speed,
Graceful
The skin is a furnace
Stoked generously
Sweat
Sitting, staring, waiting..
For bliss
Sigh.


© Copyright 2014 Leighton Blake (leighton_97 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1988034-Endurance