3.+Poem

=**__My Gym__**=

I breathe the clouds of chalk that make the air unbearable. I smell the sweat on the carpeted blue spring floor, the star carpet, the mats. The tall ceiling overwhelms me with its five fans hanging down. As I walk in through the big double doors into the rectangular gym, I am home.

The bright light reflects the chalk, And particles float through the air. The light is streaming through the windows, Shining in the faces of the coaches, gymnasts and parents. And I am home.

I hear the creaking apparatuses as routines are being executed. There is the dull mutter from coach to coach Coach to gymnast And gymnast to gymnast The parents erupt in applause as they cheer for the performing gymnasts. As the heavy breathing covers me like a blanket, I am home.

How did my gym get here? In the rural town of Onesti, When all the importance Is in Bucharest?

My love of the sport, Comfort with the apparatuses, The control I feel while performing death-defying moves. All this, at home. This gym is MY home.