The Player
Staring at me through his cage, wide round eyes,
Watching me as I remove my skates
Clutching a gleaming stick tightly in two new gloved hands
Their newness unyielding to his grip
Standing erect on shiny steel blades
Waiting for his father to dress
Velcroed warrior, encased in plastic and foam
As he stands there, silently, patiently, I wonder,
Does he realize, can he know
That he is about to join the fraternity
Of little boys of every age
Who play and love the Game
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