O soccer ball
how you stare at me with your clean glossy finish,
your fresh new smell
all panels glaring up at me,
like a dog giving me puppy eyes
drooping up at me
wanting me to take you outside
and let you roll
through the rough
grass, mud and paint
then fly through the air.
When I wake up in the morning
and blast out of bed
I see you there
like a neglected pair of shoes
waiting for someone
to wear them down to the soles,
little bits of socks peeking
through the sides.
I snatch you from your nest
of a week's worth of piled clothes.
I throw you to the ground
knowing that you'll always fly back to me.
I charge off the porch like I am getting ready
to attack whatever comes my way.
I drill you to the ground
and catch a huge chunk of your side
sending you soaring through the air
hoping you'll land in between
the metal posts
hitting the fishnet-like back.
I pick you up
cradle you into the nook of my arm
transport you inside back upstairs to my room
tuck you back into your nest of clothes
as I flip back into bed
for another day with my soccer ball.