The Running Woman
As rain trickles down a closed window,
A woman, dressed in black, leaves no prints
As she races time. Runs from herself
And her past. Who is she? Why does she
Fly across the ground? Why does she run?
Her feet suddenly touch the wet grass,
She makes contact and stumbles forward,
Forward into the present. She looks
Behind her. The leaves fly away in
The wind. In the distance a dog barks
At nothing. She is nothing. She is
No one. She no longer flies, she walks.
Her tormented past behind her, she
Walks towards the future, her head held
High, she will never run again.
[I]Prehaps[/I]
As rain trickles down a closed window,
A woman, dressed in black, leaves no prints
As she races time. Runs from herself
And her past. Who is she? Why does she
Fly across the ground? Why does she run?
Her feet suddenly touch the wet grass,
She makes contact and stumbles forward,
Forward into the present. She looks
Behind her. The leaves fly away in
The wind. In the distance a dog barks
At nothing. She is nothing. She is
No one. She no longer flies, she walks.
Her tormented past behind her, she
Walks towards the future, her head held
High, she will never run again.
[I]Prehaps[/I]
