Final Touch

As your gleaming bright shoes hesitate on the metal strip,
And as you grasp the alluring grip,
The tip of your blade meets with the opponent’s bell guard as they do the same,
The score is all around,
And began the final touch,
You put on the special mask,
As you are about to finish the task,
You close your eyes,
Determining with your head how wise,
You lift the tip,
Open your eyes,
Stomp the trembling in your legs,
As the salty tear on your forehead lies,
The touch is soon chased after,
They come in close as swiftly as a page,
You jump back and disengage,
You go for the touch but not quite,
They go for the block and it is done,
You turn your back,
Your elbows bent as if they were rubber,
You extend,
The pressure held,
The final touch,
has come to an end,
You fall onto your knees,
As you notice yourself making the roars of a titan,
You continue because not of pain,
But success,
But that success is yet to end,
But that’s for another time.