Rushing

Poem

Why fly, when you can run?
Rushing through the day,
to your head, a gun
of time.

It’s reaching out to you.
With every minute, with every thrust
It ticks

The earth is moving around the sun
Watch your step
and roll the bun.
Run.

The day is calling.
It’s bright and fun.
Life is a gamble.
Everything, a pun.

Race towards the end.
Various paces.
Why fly, when you can run?

more by PRANJULAA SINGH

photograph by Alex Wong

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