Grade School Boys Playing Volleyball Early Morning Poem by RIC BASTASA

the streamers in different colors
look like leaves on trees lining the path
that i walk upon daily

i do not want any involvement now
i have so may ideas to think about

at the playground however, the cheers come out loud
for school boys playing the volleyball preparing for the Meet.

the coach with a fat belly like the volleyball twice its size
sits on a chair shouting to the little boys making the most of

what their tiny hands can do,
i remember the past, my hands too tiny to manipulate

the ball, and i feel humiliated with the strange hit
on my face.

i am involved now. On the same level, i am now
the sports spectator.

little dreams wanting to be big outright.
broken bodies, not worth it.

as early as that age when my fingers bend,
i opted for the dignity of just watching and then writing everything.

that little boy over there, his smile is so dry.
i can relate. I am like him, so afraid.