Sweet Victory
I love the feeling!
The thrill of the chase,
the wind in my hair,
the sun beating down.
The dull roar of the crowd,
cheering me on,
or, perhaps, cheering my opponent
helps me fly.
A flash of gold!
I shoot forward like a bullet,
opponent on my tail,
as always.
The tiny, fluttering ball
is in my hand.
I hold it up.
The crowd, red and gold,
is overwhelming.
We've won!
My team hoists me up,
the captain is crying.
Nothing seems to matter,
except we've won.
The Quidditch Cup, ours
for another year.
A/N: Just a poem about Quidditch I wrote for Creative Writing! :D