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Poems Submitted by Our Readers

Deborah Ward: THE RUNNER.

The Runner.

He runs through the night in rags and bare feet,
his hair streams behind him like ripe golden wheat,
he's a picture of grace as he runs through the night,
yet nobody knows the cause of his flight.
 
Some say he runs to keep up with the sun,
'He chases the moon and stars' say some,
Some say he is searching for places unknown,
Others believe that he looks for a home.
 
The runner is loved all over the land,
he runs on the grass, on the cobbles and sand,
he runs till he drops to tired to go on,
but he run in his sleep and he doesn't stop long.
 
The runner moves on through the night and the day,
he will be remembered forever that way,
he runs through the night in rags and bare feet,
his hair streams behind him like ripe golden wheat.



Deborah Ward

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