October 5, 2016

Soccer is my passion.It’s a trap; it’s a touch.

It doesn’t take much.It’s  a dribble; it’s a fake.

The defender doesn’t look away.It’s a foul; it’s a fall.

There is no call.
Suddenly………A loss of the ball

But not for long. . .
It’s a steal back!
If i do say,It’s a pass.

It comes back to her shoe.
It’s a shot, it’s a drive.
The keeper makes a dive.It’s a pass.

It’s a save, no!!

The fans do the wave.
It’s a score; it’s a goal.She felt it in her soul; together this team,

Is a scoring machine.Winning or losing doesn’t matter.

To play is my desire.

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MR.necks said...
Oct. 7, 2016 at 1:38 pm
this poem is very good
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