Brilliant, white matched with midnight green,
crisp, washed in a may-tag machine.
These pants will only serve me once;
one game, one day, one chance, one play.
And if I do, take advantage of these pants,
they will continue a stream of hope for me.
I can not speak for you,
but its its my knees that wants this.
One chance to run, one play and I am done,
through and past, a cut then fast!
A beam light, a song of fight.
A spiraling wave of energy.
An explosion of currency,
smeared with blue and red.
Grass and hurt, boos and dirt.
We won, I did it, I made it.
I scored. I'm done.
-B.Hill
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