Claire

17

Racing the Moon

Sometimes when I'm stressed,
and no music can soothe my mood,
my focus shifts from the road to the sky.

There was the moon, bright as day.
My constant companion.
And I got this notion.

One hot night, I finally set it through.
I told myself on that dusty, country road,
I'd finally race the moon.

At 40, I stepped on the gas.
At 50, the engine roared.
At 60, the moon teased.
At 70, I started to grin.
At 80, I laughed.
At 90, I cried.

And then it all came to a halt.

Not because of a terrible tragedy.
No, no.
Not because my life ended that fateful night.
Of course not.

But because I realized,
I could never outrace the moon.