Somewhere around the penultimate hurdle,

as the winding road took a sharp bend,

as the overcast sky revealed a glimmer of sapphire blue

as the throng of cheering crowds became thinner

and even the jeers could not be heard anymore,

as the squirrels in hunts of nuts scurried away

to their abodes inside tree trunks,

as the wilted autumn leaves on the ground

turned a shade of brown that could very well be

the imagined color of blood and sweat,

somewhere around that wretched hurdle,

the shared journey became a race.

Written in response to:

Course: Introduction to Poetry

Prompt: Journey

Style: Simile


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