I made the perfect shot today,
My arrow scored a ten;
I knew just what I had to do
Yes, do it all again.

As I stood there upon the line
And thought about that shot,
I felt a kind of inner glow
And my spirits rose a lot.

What must I do, I ask myself.
To get another gold?
I'll just repeat that sequence,
Then a ten I will behold.

It sounds so easy put like that
But experience proves it's not,
As I can vouch for many times,
When I've made a rotten shot.

I'll concentrate and think it through,
I know I'll get it right;
My thoughts are pure and positive,
The arrow's me in flight.

The moments here, it has arrived.
There must be no delay;
I'm all psyched up and ready,
To see it on it's way.

I knock the arrow on the string,
And underneath the clicker;
Of nervousness there is no trace,
Not even the faintest flicker.

I check my bowhand on the grip,
My fingers on the string;
I stand up tall and set my mind
Upon one single thing.

I turn my head toward the butt,
I know just what I'll see;
That golden circle in the middle,
Staring back at me.

I raise the bow and set my arm,
As I begin the draw,
The pressure now increases,
As I pull back to my jaw.

The pressure keeps on building,
And that I must maintain,
If I'm to make that arrow land,
Into that ten again.

I do a mental check through,
To see that all is right,
Before sending off the arrow,
Upon it's wondrous flight.

The loose is good, or so it seems,
And the follow through;
So why the hell, I ask myself,
Is it in the ******* Blue?

This sport it is frustrating,
And who can say much more;
But I know that if I try quite hard,
I can improve my score.

There's one great consolation,
In which I find much joy;
All archers are so friendly,
Man, woman, girl or boy.

We all know of the saying,
"Once bitten and twice shy";
But in archery as we all know,
That just does not apply.

For the archery bug has bitten us,
And all of you should note;
The bite is one for which there is,
No real known antidote.