Gloves

The lulling silence,
Matched only 
by the breathless,
Intake of 
the moment
Of peace,
Just before the bell.

And more like a dance,
Than a battle.
Nothing but
High respect of 
Each other’s
Grandeur.
They signal 
There intent,
Not to harm but 
Simply win.
Humans have got 
to were we are
from this very 
emotion.

Of wanting 
to be the very best.
Its instinct.

And only shadowed 
By shear lust of the sport.
Fighting for your country.
Fighting...
for love.
Fighting the 
Demons inside 
there skull.
When words aren’t enough,
On come the gloves.