Fate’s Footballs Hostage
Arms folded in sideline support.
He’s holding onto an internal applause.
Perhaps in boredoms appendages
Tight in order not to cheer.
Numbers and misfortune control.
Pawns struggle into action
That moment his game begins.
When his view jolts, loosening his hold.
Onto the field; no sideline prop awaits
Halftime comes with or without action.
Shoulders heavy walk out of site.
He’s an unexpected soldier waiting.
