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