Marathon

It will be there to become exhausted,
Until the fumes of it has gone.
And I am freed of this marathon,
That holds me captive...
As if I am assisting it,
With unlimited patience.

And delighted I am,
I have been selected...
For it to use to satisfy,
This equal match.
That has been attached,
Like soul-mated lovers!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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