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Sundays Game
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2005 Poetry They battle each other every week,
dressed like modern day gladiators.
Two sides pitted against each other,
till one side becomes victorious.
One gallant hero leading the charge,
giving orders to his band of brothers.
Pure strength and determination,
is all that protects the keeper of the prize.
He and he alone controls the forward thrust,
into the other's territory in hopes of a gain.
Each yard fought with heart and soul,
in hope of scoring each leg of the battle.
Body against body dropping to the ground,
blood and pain needing to be ignored.
Victory is the driving force behind all,
roaring crowds all but silent in their ears.
The clock ticks on, each side struggling
to beat the other as well as the time.
Till the final gun shot is heard above,
and one team becomes victor of the day.
