Their Pace

I raced the clouds to the horizon
Couldn’t help but notice I’d won
When I looked back, to my surprise
Some of them were gone

I’m ready for the next starting gun
Overhead, the clouds seem to taunt
They race and paint the open skies
While I am far more gaunt

But they don’t line up for the race
There’s no strain on their face
They are the embodiment of grace
And beauty is their every space

Mayhaps they simply are their pace





Enjoy my writing? Buy me a coffee 🙂

Photo by Katie Moum on Unsplash