Convention hall full, my opponent

And I face each other; foils ready,

Faces stern, legs straight, we wait

For the referee’s order to begin.

In his official black suit, he calls:

On guard! Foils extend, legs bend.

Ready, fence! And we’re off: up

And down the strip, metal to metal.

Long hours of fret and sweat

Have whet our hunger for a win

Today as eyes of hundreds peer,

Silent until my opponent lunges,

And the stadium erupts in cheers

Or groans. Yet I must not allow

Her scoring to sidetrack me, and

On we go until I find my way in.

Again the cheers and groans as

The clock ticks its final click, and

I find myself screaming, smiling,

Springing at reaching 15 first!

Or I swallow the pain of losing

After all the training, waiting,

And straining for every win

Evading me in a bout or match.

Whichever way it goes, I give

My entire self to the process,

Learn the power of fencing

To prepare me for my life’s

   Victories and Defeats!