El Matador

An early years piece - late 60s I believe - won a little junior high school poetry contest!! The sun was high, the clouds were few, the great arena full; A perfect day for matadors to fight an angry bull. So far the day had gone well, and everything was fine, When through the gate there marched a row of matadors in line. The first one turned and doffed his hat then proudly pierced the air With words of his devotion, to impress the princess fair. Tossing him her only rose - in hopes that he would win - He nodded toward to the bull keeper to let old “Toro” in. Toro snorted - twitched his tail - then threw his head up high. He scuffed the ground, then dropped his horns, but kept a steady eye. “El Matador” kept taunting, as he waltzed behind his cape, But bravery, mixed with arrogance, would seal the fighter’s fate. The crowd fell still as in his chest he felt the deadly sting, And only lived to see the bull go prancing ‘round the ring. No hats flew through the air that day, no fighter grinned with pride. The only proud one was the bull…“El Matador”…had died.