He Held the Stars

There’s no crying in football.
Suck it up, be a man they have been told over and over.

They grow up to be hard and cold,
Like the plastic of the women they hope to attract.

What happened to chivalry we ask now.
It makes no sense, these aren’t the men that we raised. 

So they tell their daughters tall tales of different times,
Of open doors and forehead kisses.

One day it will change and they’ll come back to their senses,
They reassured their little girls even though their own hope was false.

They told their girls to be smart, to be fun and witty,
But mom, boys only want pretty. 

It broke the mother’s heart to hear her small words,
She could not take anymore, What is wrong with this world?

So she studied and wrote until her hands were raw,
She was top of her class looking down at it all.

As time went on she continued to rise,
Her mother sat watching her baby bird fly.

As she stared down below her,
Her tears began to fall.

She was alone,
There was no one else at all.

She looked round and round,
As she continued to cry.

She heard a small voice cry out,
Well hey there… Hi!

She need not say a word,
Her face read like a book.

He gave a smirk and laugh and a small shrug of the shoulder,
To make a long story short… I’m a little bit different. 

You see, I was young and naive and
Most of all I just did not care.

He hated sports, even football,
He truly was a rarity.

They laughed and they began to dance and she tried to hold his hand,
She saw what he had been clutching all along.

He held the moon and the stars and everything in between,
He was every last thing that she had ever dreamed.

 

 

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