@ DAL 2024-12-22

Bucky Irving, the Lightning’s Kin Bucky Irving, fleet as the breeze, A whisper of wind through trembling trees. His steps are the hum of a summer storm, Unseen, untouchable, breaking the norm. Born of the earth and blessed by the skies, His movements are secrets where mystery lies. A flash, a flicker, and then he’s gone, The race already decided, the battle won. Swift as a falcon, his strides take flight, A blur in the daylight, a ghost in the night. No line can hold him, no hand can bind, A rebel of gravity, free of the grind. The turf bows low beneath his speed, For Bucky’s feet sow daring seed. Each cut, each turn, a dancer’s grace, Each burst of power, a storm to chase. Defenders crumble, their hopes undone, For they can’t catch the shadow of the sun. Through fields of green, his legend grows, The swift-footed hero, whom time bestows. Bucky Irving, a name that sings, A hymn of speed, where glory clings. Unstoppable force, unyielding flame, Forever swift, forever the same.