Running

Those springloaded, aerodynamic Nikes
Touch my old heart for their simple fore-runner,
The plain gymshoe, plimsoll or sandshoe, which
We whitened then with bottled white, first cousin
To the chalky compound that coated the trundling wheel
Of the contraption that ruled the lines on the grass
Of the sports field, where panting on flying feet,
Sparkling with Blanco (name returns now), I breasted the
Winners’ tape, triumphant first for the only sporting occasion
In my career, who now at seventy strap myself into trainers
To jog round the block.  

*
Patrick Coldstream says “Once a journalist, and a promoter of causes,
have written a memoir, attended  the Poetry School and have eight
grandchildren.”