Gymnasts

Gymnasts on the balance beam, Poised and in control; Somersaulting, toes a'point - Gold their longed-for goal. Dusted hands for surer grips, Hair slicked back from faces; Ready to perform what they've Perfected through their paces. Eyes like lasers, bodies taut, They spring and bolt and leap, Doing the routines they've practiced Even in their sleep. One false move, though, poof! it's gone - The years and the years of training. Through the smiling mask, we see The hope so quickly draining. Still, we must applaud their skill. They've made it to the dance, And though they may not medal there, At least they had the chance.