Dear Lorraine
The darkest hour comes before the dawn
We know all that and yet we’re tempted
To lose all hope as the cavalry arrive
Not long now, I hear the horse outside.
To be so near when it seems so far
But the distance that we measure
Is the road we’ve come along
Not the final lap we’re starting on.
I hear the bell ring out as we run
Our final lap and yet the corner
Blinds our vision and the tape unseen
Seems to stretch out even farther.
Our fellow runners run fast and slow
At different times and so I wonder
Shall we arrive at all or all together
What will our lungs and legs support?
Nineteen laps with one to go
We will not leave the field at this time now
Our second wind will see us through
And then we’ll rest, both me and you.
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