A pop. A flash. The noise swims back; words clash.
Thick scents of men, and sweat, hang heavily.
A pop. A flash; not flesh, but photographs,
as History makes the back page daily.
Thoughts blur; "I could have been a contender."
Whispers lost against still arguing fans.
Managers page, and sponsors surrender.
'Retirement' is echoed in demands.
Put out to grass at thirty-three-years-old.
Glass jaw set against swollen tides of hate.
Forgotten; when the corpse is barely cold!
Left hook now cradles bottled beer in crates.
I run that little sports-bar; pay the rent.
And, can't regret the way my life was spent.
(abab cdcd efef gg)
Please login or register to comment.
Registration is required because of issues with spam. It is fast and free! This author would LOVE to get a comment from you, please join!
Comment added. You earned points!
Comments over 100 letters long (this was ) are eligible for points, which you can use to feature your work.
-
right now
Adding your comment:
