I remember the smell of the night,

but it was really morning.

 

It infiltrated my clothes,

right down to my skin.

It combined with my sweat

and clung to my skin.

 

Our breathing was even

with the tapping of our

running shoes.

 

Conversation echoed along the street,

bouncing off  lamp post, buildings, signs, cars.

 

Stars twinkled, stop lights changed.

We kept going till the end.

 

We had conquered the night,

and felt we could conquer the day.

 

Carpe diem!  I wrote this poem for my friend, Anne, many years ago when we were in the mist of raising families and going for a run before the sunrise, before our husbands left for work and our children went to school.  It was our time, as we ran through the neighborhood streets preparing ourselves for what the day ahead would bring for each of us.  No topic was ever off limits, as I knew she would hold the conversation and keep it safe.  Garage sales, painting, wallpapering, gardening, kids, relatives; we shared all those moments in the morning dark.

Anne approached her life with an eye for perfectionism, charm and a hearty laugh.  So, my dear friend, while missing you this past year, I remember your words, carpe diem, and only hope I can live up to them as you did.