The rings of nations shimmer in the sun
That curve against the party flag of old
The crowd, as one, suspended by the gun
Two star crossed runners half a mile from gold
East and West is fixed upon their quest
Palestinian camps are swept by breeze
Bright butterflies on Kabul's cannons rest
The hush of leafy glade in Tehran's trees
The Sandanistas silent on the hill
Below the clouds that rumble through the sky
El Salvadoran war strewn streets are still
And Berlin's towers turn a watchful eye
To Coe and Ovett, primed and poised, in place
The Brighton bullet staring into space
With concentration carved into his face
While Hallam's stallion steadies for the chase
To tear along the track with poise and pace
A clash of grit and guile with style and grace
The single pistol crack then starts the race
nice that mate
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