- Associated Press - Wednesday, August 10, 2016

He hits the wall and sees he’s won.

If counting gold, that’s 21.

No mere man, this barracuda -

More like Zeus, a god, a Buddha.

The big one was the butterfly.

No way he’d let this pass him by.

And so at last he has the prize,

The anthem plays, tears fill his eyes.

The hour’s late, his work is done

And in the seats he spots his son,

Who one day no doubt will delight

On what his old man did this night.

But now, upon his mother’s lap,

He’d surely much prefer to nap.


Copyright © 2018 The Washington Times, LLC.

The Washington Times Comment Policy

The Washington Times welcomes your comments on Spot.im, our third-party provider. Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.

 

Click to Read More and View Comments

Click to Hide