Work is over for the day,
the Boxing Club I make my way.
Smell of sweat in lights so dim,
welcome to my home sweet gym.
Begin to stretch then jump a rope,
time to focus, time to scope.
Hands are wrapped they form protection,
chin down low to avoid detection.
Sparring, sparring, time today,
someone will be made to pay.
Three steps to the ring I mount,
I pray to God there is no count.
Counter punch then full throttle,
courage don't come in a bottle.
Square retreat on ropes I sit,
allowing both sides to be hit.
Faint the jab then throw a hook,
it’s over! Great! They did not duck.
My rewards a cut lip and sore knuckle,
the other pro’s just sit and chuckle.
Sit up’s, press up’s and knee tucks,
it must be love, it’s not the bucks!
Finished for another hour,
going home without a shower.
Home and clean I make my dinner,
confident that I’m a winner.
copyright 2009 Mark Curtis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem