Run with the Present
The pace becoming harder and harder.
Run, run, through the wind and water.
Up a staircase of mystic rhyme.
Down the corridors of time.
Feet. Blurring. Speed.
Time, nor distance, does he heed.
Red and black scream,
Across life's lit screen.
Like and alien, none does he heed.
Fearing a mallet on his head.
A parcel within his boyish arms,
Lays a present for the dame.
Who annually tries to bring him harm.
His legs strong, not lame.
Forget the speed.
Forget the need.
Remember her in her dress of lace.
He now picks up the pace.
He crosses the limits of sound and light.
He ponders as he continues his flight.
Maybe this will be the night that his secret slips.
From his stuttering lips.
Maybe she'll laugh, maybe she'll cry.
If she does cry then he may decide to go and fly.
His destination in site.
He hopes he does it right.
He wonders if he can.
Tell his beloved Akane-chan.