Running
Running
Running

Falling…
Down
Colliding with the harsh cement
The whip of the wind against me
I tumble and roll into the skeleton of an old bush
Ripped skin, the salty fragrance of blood in the air
Dripping down my cheeks the tears come
Like an avalanche they roll uncontrolled from my face
I look up
Launching myself into the air
I wipe the tears and run wincing off

Into the playhouse
I flop down on the bed
I gaze up at the ceiling, at the memories
The names
The splits and cracks of the wood
An old clock ticks faintly
I gather rosemary and lilacs

Into an old peanut butter jar
Left to die in the warm room
I shut the door and skip away

I walk slowly down the street, the hot air unmoving and sticky like honey around me
Eenka tugs on her leash, ready to run into the park
I squat down and pet her curly hair
As I sit there I take time to watch and listen to the street noises
The soft sound of distant music
The scent of brownies sitting on a counter to cool
I look up and walk on

Leaves drift slowly down
My shoes making shuffling noises against the leaves
The crisp air swirls on my face
My face pink and my hands cold I spin in circles the world dizzy and confused
I fall over into a pile of leaves dry and crunchy
I stand up and start walking to the house
My pace quickens and I start into a run





Running




Running




Running