Begin
I practice 18 hours a week, but my nerves are uncontrollable,
My palms sweat,
My eye twitches,
My coach barks orders at me,
I shuffle my feet,
I itch my leg,
I wait for the judge to salute me,
I stare at the floor, then at the balance beam,
The judge raises the flag,
My heart pounds in my chest, but I take a deep breath,
I smile, and I begin.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: