A poem written during London 2012
We wish this never had to end, but know
it must. Imagine us in six weeks’ time
here on this sofa, watching volleyball; still
grappling with the rules of Graeco-Roman
wrestling; no less puzzled by Modern Pentathlon.
Picture us three months – or years – from now, wreathed
in smiles, a little teary, because of
an unexpected bronze in the dressage.
We understand the beauty of this moment:
however much we wish it wasn’t so,
we know that this is precious beyond gold
because, soon now, we’ll have to let it go.