The Matador Poem by Steven Reeve

In the rage of the noonday sun,
In a suit of glittering light’s He doe’s come,
To face death,
To leave the crowd, with bated breath.

He stands erect and proud,
His name the aficionados shout out loud,
El Leon, El Leon, they cry,
And wonder if today, He will die.

The gate is open, the bull is out,
Six hundred kilos without a doubt,
El Toro spies the man,
It will kill Him if it can.

With graceful movements He swings His cape,
Leaving the crowd with mouths agape,
Though young in years,
This Matador has taken many ears.

El Toro moves in for a kill,
For the mob it is such a thrill,
It’s horns pass within an inch,
And El Leon thought this would be a cinch.

The crowd does frown,
For El Leon is down,
But wait He rises,
And everyone surprises.

And now the ultimate thrill,
El Leon has decided, the kill,
El Toro face’s the final part,
As the Matadors sword pierces his heart.

Ole, Ole, they shout,
Let the next bull out,
But first to the Matador,
The ears must go.

He was brave, He was strong,
The crowd moves forward as one,
El Leon, El Leon, they cry,
We know you will never die.