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The Runner

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She runs with grace and symmetry.
With triumph in her eyes.
She runs and fades, and disappears,
The wind as her disguise.

The heartbeat of her footsteps,
Pounding like a drum.
Her rhythmic dulcet breathing,
And her fingertips are numb.

Winter stings her nose and cheeks,
Pink tint and porcelain fair.
She exhales inspiration,
She inhales freezing air.

Her legs exhaust the tired ground.
Her arms attack the breeze.
Her feet voluntarily guide her,
Without any boundaries.



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