Bₗₐcₖ   ₜ ᵣ ₐ c ₖ ₛ ᵤ ᵢ ₜ .
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To the girls who run around the track with empty stomachs on a crisp summer's day.

Running long looping circles around the grass which was supposed to resemble the colour of money

but instead looked like the colour of gold,

from when the Miller's daughter who spun straw into gold for Rumpelstiltskin to hand over her captive baby.

We all ran in a white cloud all seven of the girls.

But one broke apart from the group, racing ahead in her black tracksuit that clasped around all the right places,

all the right curves, ahead in the black tracksuit, heat radiating off of her.

Sweat running down her face like tears trailing sea salt valleys down her cheek,

while the sun wanted so much to absorbed her dark color.

We were in white- a shade under the sun, just so we wouldn't sweat as much.

Eyes glued on the girls black shirt and how her wavy long black hair whipped violently,

as if a tsunami wave of tar colour.

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✧❃✧