When My Runner Comes Home
by o.robinson 1/26/12
When my runner comes home
I often put my hand low on her back
Shoe laces fling, ear buds unwind
I wonder where she's been
Like a pup loose from the yard
Will I catch a scent of the bay, a whiff of wooded trails
You can't see a runner go the distance
Just a glimpse on a turn
A hug at the line
The places she goes and the things she must see
Do they equal the joy I find in her return
I bet they do
(I've never been able to write a poem about running, but tonight when I came home Owen had written me one. I do feel like a little pup. Happy to run and have my home where I am loved.)
by o.robinson 1/26/12
When my runner comes home
I often put my hand low on her back
Shoe laces fling, ear buds unwind
I wonder where she's been
Like a pup loose from the yard
Will I catch a scent of the bay, a whiff of wooded trails
You can't see a runner go the distance
Just a glimpse on a turn
A hug at the line
The places she goes and the things she must see
Do they equal the joy I find in her return
I bet they do
(I've never been able to write a poem about running, but tonight when I came home Owen had written me one. I do feel like a little pup. Happy to run and have my home where I am loved.)