Posted in art, creative writing, poetry, writing

Sprint

Sprint  They gave me a clipboard and a shot of authority, power chased with adrenaline, to prove to ride.  People asked me questions, these followers that consumed my words like salty snacks.  Handshakes locked congratulations into the day that disappeared, the nibbles of a midmorning  munched into crumbs of memories	 by the afternoon, a déjà vu of fleeting confidence.  Maybe someone will remember my face despite the finish line.

This wasn’t the poem I set out to write last night, but it didn’t matter. It’s always ok to let flow take liberties and even though my intention wasn’t quite satisfied, I accepted that my initial concept was a title for another day.

Break your own rules. Happy Monday. 

–Leanne Rebecca