Ronald Borum Poet Rhyme

THE GAME

THE GAME

Here's to the game 
of men and their ball.
The helmeted warriors 
of winter and fall.

They Explode off the line 
with a thunderous crack.
Standing them up, 
and pushing them back.
Stuffing the run,
and making the sack.

Sideline to Sideline 
down field and back.
He knows when to cover
and when to attack.
Setting the standard,
The leader of the pack.

Shutting down rivals
in zone or in man.
Closing the gap
he can't be out ran.
Batting down passes,
picks it of, his first plan.

Taking the hand off
this thoroughbred steed.
Advancing position 
with power and speed.
Running over or past them,
he'll get what you need.

They sprint down the field.
At incredible paces, 
grabbing bombs from the air,
and of the tips of shoe laces. 
Hard cuts and soft hands,
and winning the races.

Calling the signals.
Oposition's to read.
His arms is a cannon,
Work ethic his creed.
this rarest of athletes,
with a talent to lead.

Engaging attackers,
and forging of holes.
Protecting their leader.
The heart and the soul.
A team within a team,
with a singular goal. 

In heat, snow, or rain,
with blood, sweat, and tears, 
they play through the pain,
and attack without fear.

For their city, the people,
their brothers, their name,
most important of all,
for love of the game.
 
With prowess and grit
they give it their all,
for the ultimate honor,
enshrined in the hall.

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