Golden Horse

Fast like a horse,
Proud as a lion,
His boots so golden, graceful and quick.
The ball and his boots, dancing the tango.

A pair of golden wings,
Dashing across the pitch, the crowd rise to their feet,
Feeling the rush of air as the cheetah flies for goals.
The sweet taste of victory looming.

The crowd full of anticipation,
The sharp gasps, the chants coming to a halt.
The air so tense.
You could cut it with a knife.

Only to be slashed,
The ball slicing through the air, slicing the suspense
Ripping the back of the net.

The crowd and the cheetah roaring,
the victory tingling through his bones.
The sensation so great, so powerful, so overwhelming.
His legacy will be celebrated for years to come.

To this day he thinks about that game.
He opens his cupboard to reveal those boots hanging up, all the same.
He thinks of the fame, the legacy of these boots.
These golden wings have seen it all, all the way from the bare roots.