The Runner

The Runner
Crowds roared as the first runner crossed the finish line.
His sweaty, blue jersey clung to his long, lithe body.
The blazing sun had made each stride one of joyful pain.
Bordering on complete collapse, the marathoner
Broke the white finish line ribbon and
Slowed his pace on the black asphalt.
He ran into the arms of his exuberant coach.
A light wind blew hot air into his numb face.
His two and a half hour test was over.
His feet still had the blisters that bled from
Months of hard, disciplined practices.
Today he would receive a colorful bouquet
With native blossoms from a blushing, young girl
Who could not even pronounce his name.
But as his national flag rose above all others,
Tears fell as he touched the gold medal,
And his heart filled up with well-earned pride.
This day was the culmination of the dream of a poor, young man
Who had earned his country’s first medal.