When I was writing,
And the clock ticked towards midnight,
From my window,
I saw a woman running through the streets.
I saw her again the next night,
And then the next.
Night after night,
For nights on end,
And I wrote.
I was returning home from a late dinner,
And I saw her,
Running towards me.
She slowed and stopped.
“Why do you run?” I asked,
The question pounced forth,
It had been stalking my mind for weeks.
“I’m chasing the stars,” she said.
And I didn’t need another word,
I knew exactly what she meant.
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