Fantasy intertwined with what could be,
Hope, desire tilt with practicality,
Rampant doubt and fear hobble all they can,
But here and there one's dreams, held close, still stand,

And as the day nears,
Anticipations,
Take up with them building fears,
Causing tingling sensations,

Up the spine and in the heart, which then skips,
Intensifying desire for one's sips,
From the cup of promise, fame and glory,
Symbolic chalice told of in story,

And once drunk, fulfilled,
Ever known as one,
Of the few who have instilled,
Hope for what could yet be done,

In aisles they sit, nervous, all of one kin,
They've walked through blood red to be here within,
And as the lights dim and trumpets report,
They hide behind smiles their fears' last resort,

One by one called out,
Made to sit and wait,
Only one will rise and shout,
All the rest, a lonely fate,

The dream is once, just once to rise and climb,
Take your place, hold your goal and claim that, "I'm,
Happy to be called out. No words can say,
How filled with joy I've become on this day."

Smiling, trotting off,
The audience beams,
Those left behind weep their soft,
Tears to themselves so it seems,

To come so close, so nearly there, but no,
To achieve so much with nothing to show,
Their dreams dashed, tarnished but yet still alive,
One more year and as long as they survive,

One's dreams can carry,
Hope within their reach,
No time for pause or tarry,
Work to be done on a speech,

That someday will be heard by all, just wait,
Sad memories from this loss will abate,
Next award season will be time to shine,
Next great acceptance speech heard will be mine!

tags: poetry  

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