Dashed


Past defeats never forgot.
And new ones start, wanted or not.
The future’s now a little shorter.
The time’s past to reorder.
~
On a line I stand for another race.
Hurdles tripped to slow the pace.
Miles obscure seconds behind.
Marathons won when a sprint’s to find.
~
Running on empty, the finish’s near.
The sun setting, lost again I fear.
Love’s judged, balanced with tension.
Perhaps I’ll sit for honorable mention.

~*~
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