The Runner

As the runner comes closer and closer to the finish line, barely behind the opponent, the soon-to-be winner, he thinks, “I don’t want to lose this race!”

He is already running his hardest, but he pushes and gives his all for this. Slowly, but fast, he approaches the opponent. If the race ended this second, it would be a tie.

As he passes the opponent, he can hear his teammates yelling his name. Closer, closer!

This will be a tough finish for both.

Again, the opponent runs barely ahead of the runner. A little more to go, both runner and opponent giving this their all.

Ten meters left.

Five.

Two.

Finish line.

The runner has crossed the line first. He has done it!

VICTORY! FIRST PLACE!

He heaves, leans forward and puts his hands on his knees. Exhausted. He feels so tired, but yet so proud at the same time.

The opponent walks over to him. “Good race. See you at practice next week.” With a reply back, the runner shakes the friend's hand.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

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