Victory! Victory!

How sweet is the sound.
So sad and too bad
thy sort is short
and not enough to go around.
Vouchsafe, sweet winged goddess,
victory renown,
the comfort and coolness
too fleetingly found.
Where doth thy wingings
waywardly wend?
When deep in thy presence,
often is when
carestruck, barestruck,
and suddenly then,
in one fell swoop,
accidentally win!
Was it you?  Was it us?
Was it just happenstance?
The confluence of circumstance?
Know that by our losses,
we work to enhance
to girder ourselves
for another chance.
To win, to lose, to come out a draw,
to find from our losses once single flaw;
to the victor, to the triumph,
to the loser the raw
cold cornerstone
of a long time at thaw.




Copyright © 2012 Marvin Loyd Welborn. All Rights Reserved.

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