She weathers the years,
a structured monument, an embodiment
of another era
of football greats.
The lions roar, weary legs toil;
the heart pounds the stomped ground.
Smoke with profanities and expletives
stinking, whirling in a whiff
into the electrified air.
All but a childish bout
for a ball
yet more.
A child's heart raises above
the leaden open sky
amidst his heroes.
Eyes widen with dreams
sailing beyond the shore.
In his mind's eye,
lightning feet possessed,
belief flings back waves
of fatigue,
courage clashes with nature
giftedness and superiority.
Intriguing indeed!
With age, her clever devices
change - not diminish.
But elegant like a candle flame,
the old lady still precede by,
one last time,
this moonlit night.
- Wannabe Poet
(completed: 31 Jan 07)
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