This crescendo which we have hit before,

looks better at night

more complete, more competiv3,

closer to sterling sliver now more than ever.

It fades in the day, with the day; seize the day,

in the light, floating away; tarnished.

Washed ashore,

with the day.

We’ll celebrate the victories,

and the knockouts,

the ones on dry land and the ones at sea.

The dreams we don’t remember,

and the knockouts we try to forget;

with the days bleeding, in between the margins.