The Sprint
My friend's Mum owned a Mini
The paint was a vibrant lime green
So from where I sat by the window
His arrival would always be seen.
And when he and I were done playing
He'd be dragged back in to that car
I'd put on my shoes, and follow them out
With my Mum warning not to go far.
I'd wait for the engine to rumble to life
Stand there with my hands in my pockets
And when they started to drive away
I launched down the road like a rocket.
In that moment, I was the fastest alive
Wind in hair, feet slamming on ground
And when they drove too far to catch up
I'd pause for breath and turn round.
My friend leases a little white car now
And he wears a beard like a man
I'm a little less wild than I was as a child
When my sprints down the road first began
Yet still, when our grown up talks finish
I walk out to that well-worn position
As he gets in his car, I give him a smile
And wait for the rumbling ignition
When he moves, I move along with him
In that moment, I'm the fastest alive
With the wind in my hair, my feet on the ground
I wonder when he learned to drive
When all this change first erupted
Did it float in on some eastern breeze?
If I run fast enough, can I overtake time
For a second, and force it to freeze?
My questions all go on unanswered
As my friend speeds away out of sight
One day, I know I'll speed away too
It's a future I can't hope to fight.
Today, though, I don't think of leaving
Or the places I'll someday soon roam
I catch my breath, and I turn on my heel
And just like before, I run home.
About this poem
A reflection on growing up, and how some things never change.
Font size:
Written on March 19, 2024
Submitted by memchambers on March 27, 2024
- 1:43 min read
- 43 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XAXA BCXC XXXX DEXE XFXF XGXG XDED XHXH XIXI BJXJ |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,533 |
Words | 332 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Sprint" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 20 Sep. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/184940/the-sprint>.
Discuss the poem The Sprint with the community...
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In