Running Poem by Maddy Adams

It's early.
Only six o'clock.
And she's out in the field on the hill behind her house.
In a junky pair of shorts,
In an old t-shirt.
Her hair, her long golden hair, is out of its ponytail.
And she is smiling.
The sun comes up,
drying the dew from the grass.
The wind begins to blow,
And she runs.
Her hair streams out behind her like a golden river,
And her face, made old over the years, even though she is still young,
Is a little girl's again.