Tilted

Ooohhh the wind, oohh the dreadfully cold , stood through it in the middle of the stadium, a broken pole bearing the score board. The springs out of the display lights, on his broken foot..he stood there, shivering in the night, a small shawl laid on him.. fluttering through the wind, just as forgotten as he was. How he missed his golden days, the days where, as white as a chalk, he stood right up and tall, eager to be written on. Reminiscing about those days he shed a tear, the crowd all gone. He stood there alone in the stadium now and the fog took over, maybe afterall it was time, time to say good bye...