He was a fighter, a sucker for the sport
he knew when to throw a punch,
and never crossed a line
he played by the rules to win over a heart
But he fell through the ropes at the very start
She was the force that attacked him
A blow to his emotions, he had to admit
face first, he took the hit
sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins
immediately he felt her taking over the reins
he fell hard and kissed the canvas
and changed him she did.
The red gloves were kept away
more important things and family, were here to stay
The only ring that mattered now,
was not the one he used to leisure in
but the one that donned a white lace glove
on the hand of his lady love.
Medals and memories of the days gone by
were kept in his bedside drawer for his children to find
And on a dark mournful evening, when he was on his way Home
the woman insisted she be left alone
she picked up the medal that with time had lost it's sheen
and wished that her tears could wipe it clean
Gold, silver brass were things of the past
their children and grandchildren were victories that would last
A fighter who let go of a hobby to find a life
The medals he had won, comforted his widowed wife.
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