Shoes on the Run
The sun is in the sky, so bright, so high,
Though winter's cold still lingers in my sight;
The trees begin to stir their leaves nearby,
As I begin to find my inner light.
The papers rest in silence, stacked in sheaves,
The antique tape collections grieve the past;
They hold the glow of golden, fading eves,
When days were long and summer seemed to last.
I leave it there at last and say goodbye,
And walk beneath the wide and open sky;
The clouds seem newly painted, drifting white,
While birds say hi as they go flying by.
A newly written page has now begun—
The past is done; these shoes are on the run.
(08.04.2026)
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