Six o'clock in the morning
No light appears,
As his alarm pounds at his head.

He lies awake,
Questioning if he should go,
Slowly pulling his limp legs out of bed.

When his eyes awaken fully,
His legs still ace with stress…
First the shorts, then the socks.


He makes his way to the front door,
Slipping on his shoes,
Quietly stepping outside.

As he steps onto the front lawn,
The moon lurches in the night,
Still waiting for his brother, sun.

He heads out of the driveway,
Not knowing how far or how long,
While the sun plays tag with the moon.

Eight o'clock, the school bell rings.
He runs in late to class.
Sweaty and out of breath, he sits.

Six hours go by in the blink of an eye.
He smiles with excitement -
Practice is one thing he won't fail.

Eight, four-hundreds,
Six, two-hundreds and
Four, one-hundreds…

A tempo to close it
And a swig of water,
Then he heads to his locker.

There he is, there he was -
No time to talk,
For he does not walk.

Once more he lies in bed, thinking of
Where he went and how far…
Then he thinks, “That's why I don't need a car.”