shakela davis


Held High - Poem by shakela davis

Waiting at the start line waiting for the gun to shoot
Muscles building up as u get more and more nervous
The gun shoots and u take off with all your might
Wind blowing over your ears stinging your eyes
Like onions
As you get closer and closer to the finish line you get more and more excited like a child in Toys R Us before Christmas Eve
You reach the finish line
And you turn around to see the other opponents finishing seconds later after you
Your teammates run to the finish line to congratulate you, they shake your hand and you walk off the track with your head held high


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 13, 2008



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