#163 ~ Touch Down

Touch down

You run aground.

No flips, front, side, backwards twists

You reach the goal posts

and collapse in heap

to the expectant ground

it is your season finales inglorious touchdown.

All the training,

The energy,

The instructions,

Culminate in a fatigued expression

As the broken oar

crests the water

Your year of physical pain

amounting to a bathetic salute

as you race up the slide

Only able to keep time

meet the deadline

Your work making headlines

for its quality which is synonymous to the life of one who survives

under the bread line.

Touch down you run aground

Hoping your former glories

might aid your season finale,

looking up at the sky

encouraging the year to pass on by.

Touchdown.

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