Football Poem by Marlin Nightingale

Here he walks with wistful wonder,
Tuning out the crowd's coarse thunder,
Knowing that a single blunder,
Could forever change the game.

Oh how bright the banks of bulbs are,
Shrinking shadows; spreading beams far,
And he feels the sweat on palms bare,
He winces; they announce his name.

Concentration can't conceal his,
Fervor for the fight thats brought this,
Challenge to his mind, to take its
Toll of bones to break and maim.

Pressure's pounding his position,
He relies on intuition,
Fading right; avoids collision,
Then the pass to seal his fame!

Streaking down the slender sideline,
Speeds the wide reciever so fine,
And he leaps, split-seconds, no time,
Grabs the ball, his muscles strain.

Fiercely with the football flying,
The ground appears; he fears of dying,
Smashing to the grass and lying,
In a flood of blood and pain.