The wet street glimmered under the lights,
and I smiled grimly to myself as I skimmed by.
This was going to be no jog.
Once again I found myself running through the dark.
Past the people walking their dogs,
past the other runner,
his hat pulled down to ward off the cold as he grinned and said hello.
He knew that this run wasn't a pleasure jog,
or even really a training run.
It was prooving a point.
I went to Stormont for it seemed appropriate.
She sat there, illuminated and beautiful,
"Yeah, you're lovely," I told her, but then,
Stood up and shouted silently,
"But you never work!"
"Don't cry, I understand, it's hard to work out
what's past and figure out how to live the present."
She stared back, wondering about the runner
moving through the night and darkness.
So I went back.
Back down the hill, back up the street.
Past the dogs and their owners,
Under the streetlamps and across
the glimmer of the road.
I went back to the present
and ran away from the past.