She was here, say the footsteps

In the fresh snow, wandering across the meadow.

She was busy, say the many delicious pies,

Cooling on the counter, filing the house with luscious aromas.

She is poor, says the lack of Christmas decorations,

And the empty spaces in her tiny closet.


She is caring and thoughtful, says the tiny box

With a card and a bow fixed especially on top.

She is pretty, says the mirror, recalling the charming curls

Onto which a jaunty cap was placed as she heard the knock on the door.

She is loved, say the roses, standing in the glass vase

Placed with care on the mantle above the fireplace.


A young man has taken her away, call the footprints,

Next to her own, leading over the hill through the light snow.

They are in love, says the mistletoe that is growing above

Where the footprints stopped, before going on.

They are happy, cries the warm light

Shining through the cottage window,

as laughter gaily drifts on the chilly night air.


The sun beats down as a fire burns

Deep within my soul it yearns

To be let out, to be set free

It longs to be more than I could ever dream.

The Race

As you crouch at the starting line

The gunman takes the pistol

Slowly raising it in the air

“On your mark, set,” Crack!


The shot, still ringing in your ears,

You spring from the line and you’re off!

As the others push for the inmost lane,

You trip and fall, but they run on.


“I will not fall behind,” you tell yourself

As you race to catch up to the others

Settling into a quick jog

Push yourself faster, 3 laps to go.


Your breathing quickens to match the pace

That you force your legs to pump

Your feet begin to burn with heat

Keep running on endlessly, it seems.


Feet pounding rhythm into the ground

Battling for strength

It would be so easy to slow down

Push yourself harder, faster, forever.


Your breath is as dry as the desert sand

As you fight to lean into the wind

Rounding the last curve, recall your strength

To force the final test.


Hold your breath, your arms pump faster

Run on your toes, use the wind at your back

Lean forward, giving it your all and cross the line.

Now there’s nothing, except to breathe.