The Game of the Year
It's the game of the year
A contest for the ages
In attendance are celebrities
Government officials and sages
Ceremony, pageantry and pomp
As the gladiators get ready to stomp
Onto the field of battle, to contend
While we mortal onlookers pretend
That what all this tawdry tinsel signifies
Is that the combatants we so lionize
Will be worthy recipients of the grand prize
An impressive silver trophy the size
Of an altar, rests on the sidelines
As warriors position themselves on chalk-lines
To damage each other on a field of deep green
Each man prepared to rupture his opponent's spleen...
We say that teen-agers' flings and romances
Are half-baked, immature, risky flash-dances
Yet considering our game-time circumstances
It's we adults who canonize risky chances
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018
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