Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

The breeze’s banners flutter bright and colorful against the green of trees. Olympians are heralded. Spectators loudly scream. Inspire a generation colored gold for victory. Proclaiming city, year and date, there is no pity in this fate. The runner runs and cyclist rides while glorious countryside looks on. Everyone wins. A bike of flowers adorns the roundabout. Cyclists fly past on wild mercurial heels. Glorious power is shown about this city, praising wild Olympic dreams. They’ve built a fortress, built a wave, built magic, built a dream. They’ve cheered the athletes, watched their flags wave high. They’ve built a fire. Winners just to be there. Victors just to see the crown. Champions play the melody. And future medalists set sparks to light the Olympic flame. See the towers of history, the fields of long-gone battles, shores where conquering heroes stood. Hear the cheers of victory’s parade, long-gone, renewed again today. When soccer balls and beach ba...

Beach balls volley over Olympic nets while ancient buildings stare and unprepared turns into sudden hope and certainty. We all run further than we think.

If they open the gates of history, open the stage to tomorrow, stand among echoes of sorrow and cry out for joy, they’re feeling Olympic.

Feeling Olympic, running the marathon’s trail, riding high on the wind and if it rains, we’ll run again; feeling Olympian, never gives up. Ride on.

Feeling Olympic, rushed and pushed, and furiously blue, but colored rings ignite a flame that’s more than you, than them, than they. Possibilities bloom Olympian.

Got a football team of youth and age while in-betweens recover from the season. This Olympic stage perhaps is well-designed for coming, going, rising again.