It used to be

A game of catching

Up. The little kid

A little bit behind.

You set the pace

Gold and glistening

Bright and beautiful

Bearing the baton.

Who knew I’d be the one

To take the lap

Simple and constant

Plodding and true.

No victory in this upset

Gold long gone—

Baton abandoned

A fading you, waving

In the distance.

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