“Avalanche”

My heart pounds, my breath shortens,
I can barely sit still.
Butterflies invade my stomach,
and vie for the pole position.
“This is a first for me,” I mumble
aloud for all to hear.
The friends I was with
were seasoned veterans, and knew how
to quell these butterflies.

The lights went down,
and the roar of the crowd climbed
to astronomical heights
that dizzied my head,
making everything seem all-too surreal.
The music stops, the lights go up,
and the players
take to the ice with grace and speed,
my butterflies slowly subsiding.
“I’m more nervous than they, “ I quipped,
as I wrung my hands in fear.
Would my team of mighty gladiators
fall to a roaming band of fighters?

When the first lamp was lit
a lump gathered in my throat.
The mere thought of the gladiators
losing to such an unworthy advarsary
sent nerve-numbing chills down my spine.
I leaned over and told my friend,
“A false sense of security,”
in hopes of lulling myself into one as well.
The clock, as it always did,
began to wind down, and my hopes
were starting to fade.
Constant mockery from my so-called friends
did nothing to dishearten my spirits,
for I knew who the winner would be,
and I knew how I was getting home from the arena.

The battle waged on,
both sides feeling the fatigue of a long night’s work,
but only one side was showing their weakness.
A dim air fell over the arena,
as I became the lone voice,
shouting for her infallable gladiators.
The final buzzer sounded.
Moods shifted from dim to somber,
all except for mine, anyway.
Mine was at a level
yet unseen by my young soul,
closely resembling childish glee,
as I floated from my seat to my chariot.

“Back to the real world,” I thought to myself,
rubbing my hands to stave of frostbite.
But I’ll always have my
moment in the sun at HSBC Arena.