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The racing woman
Tattoos of resilience down her thighs,
She shifts the gears and flies into the night.
A playful, teasing wit to guard against byes,
And keep the heavy shadows out of sight.
She survived a storm that should have broken grace,
And learned that open doors can bring the rain.
So now she runs at such a breathless pace,
With high walls built to barricade the pain.
never crowd her lane or force the lock,
Just drive in my lane, steady through the bend.
A quiet racing against the shock,
To prove that safe rides don't have to end.
