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Eternal Glory

Today is special.

It's kickball day.

The gymnasium echos

With exuberant voices

Slapping slick walls

Bouncing blissfully ‘round.

Raised voices resound

Reflecting back all

But one voice.

With head bowed

His neck strains

Under the weight

Of great expectations.

This game makes

Men of boys

And classroom legends

Are born here.

Maple wood planks

Tell their story.

Scuff marks left

From defiant soles.

This game is

His origin story.

He sits silently.

Awaiting his glory.

He’s come prepared.

His secret weapon

Cowboy boots with

Steel-toe enclosed

Guaranteeing balls fly

Higher, further, faster.

Nevermind that they’re

Horrible for running

He will only

Kick home runs.

Coaches voice rings

Above all else.

Time for teams.

Everyone number off.

One, two, one.

Teams now done.

It seems Fate

Is never arbitrary.

Team two stacked.

Team one lacks,

Everything but his

Steel-toe boots.

Odds against them

Is too perfect

For this stoic

Legend to be

What a backdrop

For his at-bat

His kicks will

Save them all.


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