She Runs Up The Street Poem by Francis Duggan

She Runs Up The Street



She runs up the street in the morning as dawn's lamp has just brightened the sky
Her son cycles along side of her on his pushbike a nine or a ten years old boy
The hill in our street is a steep hill I hear her pant as she jogs by
And she and her son they ignore me though a few times to them I said hi.

She does not seem to have a weight problem and she does seem a serious athlete
And she jogs along at a good pace up and down the hills of the street
And rain, hail or shine every morning by her side her son cycling along
She runs up the hill in the daybreak as the butcherbird pipes his dawn song.

She is such a beautiful looking young woman so graceful, athletic and tall
Though any photo of her in the newspaper sports pages I cannot say I can recall
Or maybe to running she's addicted and an addiction is a human frailty not a crime
And most of us have our addictions and I am addicted to rhyme.

She runs up the street in the dawning the wind in her shoulder length brown hair
Her young son on his pushbike beside her they ignore me as if I were not there
The magpie he flutes on the gum tree his welcome to the brand new day
I hear her footsteps on the quiet hill and from me they then fade away.

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