Olympic Poem

• Lachlan Rathbone, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2016

The Olympians were roaring,
the crowd was snoring.
The Olympian drew his arrow back,
he knew that he couldn't lose track,
Even though he had a broken back.
The arrow flying through the air,
if he missed he was going to tear
his bow into pieces.
He hit the ten, smack bang in the centre,
then his family began to enter.
Standing on the podium with a gold medal around his neck,
His opponent just got wrecked.
He hung his medal up,
He had a drink from his cup.

Archery by Lachlan Rathbone