Beyond Gold

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.