Running out at Comanche Lookout Park yesterday, I felt like jotting down a fun poem or a play on homophones in the English language. I've done quite a bit of run training in this small park and wanted to honor it in some way. Everyone needs a hill, a place to challenge themselves.
I cried a tear, climbing your tier
Whilst tearing the tor
Your course, coarse
Through the gravel floe, mind in flow
I’ve made a peace with this small piece
I’d felt weak all week.
Hearing pleas of please
Running I need, my quads I knead
And my heel, now healing
Bidding you marque, making a mark
The trails not new, each turn I knew
However in the mist, I missed
Sitting idle, dreaming of idols
A small hare, sweat in my hair
What do I hear, here?
I’m born again, being borne
Nevermore mourning in the morning
Desire whet, with water tongue wet
Through every groan, I’ve grown
Seeing a hart, warming my heart
Through your thyme, I pass my time