The sun has beaten me to this day,
its arms to the sky
while mine stretch and wish
for the quiet victories
of an early rise —
the silent, solitary laps
the final slow rotation
before the crowd roars
and the race begins.
The sun has beaten me to this day,
its arms to the sky
while mine stretch and wish
for the quiet victories
of an early rise —
the silent, solitary laps
the final slow rotation
before the crowd roars
and the race begins.
