The Fighter

For most of his Bumming around days He was lost In dead end jobs Once in the gym He became a silhouette of youth Weaving like a cobra Slipping Countering Learning how to hook Footwork and poise A moving target Possessing speed And brutal power Waiting To connect On Flesh and bone. All his life He searched for what was missing His dream Was to be champion Months Years of solitary training Was the price he gladly paid. The ring waited Patiently Knowing that he lived for the moment When all was a blur Of sudden activity Moving shadows And the roar of the crowd. Years go by Another decade Another time The city moves on In a singular rhythm all its own For him Time now stands still In a quiet place Of warm sunlight Streaming through an open window A place of Old fight posters And faded photographs. He won a title Had good times Some laughs Traveled with an entourage Met the famous Parties came and went And so did his money. Holding the yellowed clipping The old thrill Returned He felt strong again The bright lights were on The roar of the crowd Was louder than he ever remembered The smart money and the ladies were in front All eyes on him Bobbing and weaving in the empty gym He stopped to catch his breathe Raising his hands in triumph He knew that in the bottom of his gut No matter what anyone said or did In the ring He had fought and lived like a champion.