The engine of the runner is her heart;
the key which turns it over is desire.
I watch her run; her strength becomes a part
of will, the part that fuels the rising fire.
There’s grace to draw attention to the fact
that life is born within her graceful form.
There’s grace which leaves her beauty well intact
while power moves her forward like a storm.
She flows into her motions with an ease
that makes the wind seem tawdry as it flies.
The air is sudden stillness while her breeze
slips underneath her feet to make them rise.
Step back as she approaches, watch her stride
compelled by how her heart beats deep inside.