Arms folded in sideline support
He’s holding onto an internal applause
Or boredoms appendages fold tight
Numbers and misfortune control
Pawns struggle into action
That moment his game begins
When his view jolts loosening his hold
Will it be healing or halting
Onto the field; no sideline prop
Halftime comes with or without action
Shoulders heavy walk out of site
He’s an unexpected soldier waiting.
