Poem - Champion of the World

A simple man, not too short or too tall,
A face not remarkable enough to recall.
Living a time designed to simply go by,
No breaths of life, just a series of sighs.
A little stream – a small part of the flow,
No superstar – I am just another John Doe.

Then she looks at me- smile wickedly unfurled,
She makes me feel like the champion of the world.

A man not too smart, not really too slow,
Ready to fly - yet afraid of what lies below.
Sang the right words –never learnt to roar,
No melody at all –a part of the background score.
My sight is a frame with the usual fears,
Eyes have vision- but no joys and tears.

Then she dances into view, with a gracefully twirl,
She makes me feel like the champion of the world.

Search my soul for that missing link,
Dig my toes in the sand, to see how far I sink.
Try to find myself with another skin,
I know I am lost, even before I begin.

Then I catch the clue – she once sweetly hurled,
She whispered that day, “The champion of my world.”