(running is too generous a word)
viewing streets from deep in the past,
a familiar route mostly in his dreams
where his steps are so much lighter.
He cannot replace lost youth with long hair,
ghost runner in the summer air.
I imagine sweat rolling down his brow
as he ruminates about the young woman
so fleet of foot he trained with once
back in marathon days decades ago
when time stretched like the universe.
But next year he'll be back, if it's God's will
running up the same hill...yet slower still.