Ode to My Trophies

Some people call them “just trophies.”  

Some say, “What’s the big deal? They’re from childhood.”  

But for me? They’re time capsules.  

Each one whispers a story, each crack holds a memory.  

They don’t just shine   they speak.

Here’s a little poem straight from my shelf, from my heart, from my victories (and lessons).

Ode to My Trophies

You gleam in gold, in bronze, in rust,  

You wear my name with quiet trust.  

Not loud like fame, not trending news,  

But proof of sweat inside my shoes.

You saw the skates, the bruised-up knees,  

You felt my fire, my silent pleas.  

Each curve, each crown, a tale untold,  

Of dreams I chased when I was bold.

You’re not just metal, not just weight,  

You carry echoes of my fate.  

Of stage lights bright and nervous heart,  

Of showing up and playing part.

Some call you small, say “that was then,”  

But I still feel those wins again.  

You remind me — I’ve always tried,  

Even when hope had almost died.

So here’s my ode, my little song,  

To every right, to every wrong.  

To who I was, to who I’ll be  

My past, my pride…  

My trophies and me.

End Note:

These trophies might fade, the names might blur, but the spirit behind them? Eternal.  

To the younger me , thank you for not giving up.  

To the current me ,keep going.  

And to anyone reading this: celebrate your wins, even the quiet ones. They built you.