Finish Line

Running away from the problem always gets you to the finish line.
The finish line...what a simple idea:
That yellow piece of paper you run through that signifies an ending.
The race can be so long, but the finish line is the same.
Eight days. Eight months. Eight years.

All the things we have been through do not deserve a hasty end.
All the things I have found out about you do not.
All the things I have found out about myself do not.
All the memories:
The squirrel with the cup, the hampster in his ball
The coffeehouses downtown, the painting on the wall
Late night house hunting, the names of yet-to-be-borns,
The family get-togethers and those four hour calls.
Dancing together making our own rythym and pace.
Our synchronization can turn a crowded room into our intimate space.

Don't run away to the finish line.
I don't want it to be over.
Its not a game.
Its not a race.
Its us.
Its us.

Eight days, eight months, eight years.
I will wait an eternity til the finish line completes itself in another world.