World Cup

Written by: Del Phil

19 Girls chasing a ball:
Dirty shins, sweaty bodies, bouncing ponytails.
Grass stains galore,
I stand: panting, watching.
Never fast enough for this hunt.
For my father, I must stay.
For my father, I bloody my porcelin knees.
A spotted rocket flies my direction.
Think fast!
Kick! Goal!
Maybe there is hope for me.