Number One Poem
By Ray Clune
Kneeling, poised, contemplating.
Years in training, no more waiting.
Pistol fires, you’re on your way.
This is your moment, today is the day.
Muscular, skeletal symbiosis.
To win the gold your own prognosis.
Suppress all fears and quell emotions.
Athletes in perfect fluid motions.
You’ve hit your peak, as intended.
Finish in sight, race almost ended.
Dip for the tape, on your chest it snaps.
Resounding cheers and thunderous claps.
It’s you, you did it.
You are the one.
The New Olympic Champion.
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