The Runner

In the signs of dawn,

In the sighs of light,

The morass yawns like the pits of hell.

The flash and the glitter,

The cash and the meter,

a fading memory,

The shadows deepen.

The clock growls out its chimes,

like an engine on rocket fuel.

A dash of lime, a pinch of salt

She revels in the adrenaline,

She starts to run in the shadows.