Lilting Song
Shall we consider “The Last Dance?”
Champagne stings the eyes.
The cigar smoke lingers.
When the team again vies.
To hold trophies between their fingers.
The repeat of a dance states
That the team was the best.
Of all the other mates
They delivered on the test.
The last shot stood like a lilting song.
As six digits shot to the air,
Spectators wanted them to go long.
The man engendered excellence there.
Exuberance gushed with rapture.
The eyes of the world soaked
Up every moment to capture.
And the team remained stoked.
Though they would stop their reign
It meant that they could relax.
Some would see a different lane
And some would see more greenbacks.
About the Creator
Skyler Saunders
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