Constantly going over claps and counts.
Cold metal slapping my palm.
Anticipation of our performance mounts,
Trying to keep my beating heart calm.
The eagerness that competition brings,
We ready ourselves for the rush.
We gather our flags and glittery things,
We set to perform, I feel my face flush.
Our performance starts,
It's my turn to stand.
Fast beating hearts,
Flags spinning in hand.
Feelings like this aren't familiar to you,
but colorguard is what I do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem