She runs through the fields, feet light as air,
A child of the wind, flowers run through her hair.
The river runs deep, carving earth with its might,
While the sky runs with colors, fading into night.
The clock hands run fast, chasing hours of the day,
As dreams run wild, in a mind far away.
The ink runs dry, on a letter never sent,
Words run together, blurred by time’s lament.
He runs a business, keeps the books in line,
Runs through the numbers, in a quest to define.
The engine runs cold, on a road overgrown,
Memories run long, when you’re driving alone.
The news runs late, in a world turned gray,
Hope runs thin, but love finds a way.
Through every run, be it joy or despair,
We run toward the light, through the life that we share.