Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 30, 2014

ROUND FOUR~by Dennis John Ferado


 

 

ROUND FOUR

I’ll go to work now and finish this guy
His punches don’t hurt I’ll let my fists fly
Caught me last round, to my corner I lied
I’ll win, my fate, is it the sixth or eighth

This guy’s on fire his hands are a blur
Feel like I’m choking, swallowing my blood
Now there’s a gash right above my left eye
I’m out of gas from the pain in my side

My legs are logs, there’s an ache in my chest
I can’t lift my arms and can’t catch my breath
Right at ringside my sweet wife and my kid
She’s sick of this life, he has his face hid

Must be almost over, feels like the tenth
I’ll fake with my shoulder, drop in a left
This canvas is cold down here on the floor
I’m beaten and old, it’s only the fourth

I’ve got to get up, its more than just pride
I see him now, only through my right eye
He’s in the light, hasn’t broken a sweat
I could still win but….my wife and kid left

Copyright 2014 Dennis John Ferado


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