Swimming Carnival
This aquatic centre brims blue,
Humid with chlorine, raked seats are full.
Family phones raised, ready to view
Lane's on-screen names above the pool.
Whistle, a tense silence, all prone.
Youth dives into the glassy plane,
Glides beneath, to rise with splash and foam,
Their final surge to mixed acclaim.
My grandson stands on the starting block,
His body is taut, eager to move.
He's ready to race against the clock,
With age, he will see his times improve.
When seconds douse his fleeting youth,
He'll swim towards a mortal truth.
Humid with chlorine, raked seats are full.
Family phones raised, ready to view
Lane's on-screen names above the pool.
Whistle, a tense silence, all prone.
Youth dives into the glassy plane,
Glides beneath, to rise with splash and foam,
Their final surge to mixed acclaim.
My grandson stands on the starting block,
His body is taut, eager to move.
He's ready to race against the clock,
With age, he will see his times improve.
When seconds douse his fleeting youth,
He'll swim towards a mortal truth.
[Sonnet from a collection by S.C.N. Pockley]
(CC) reserved by Simon Pockley [1048] I try to respond within 24 hours
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