Tilted
Ooohhh the wind, oohh the dreadfully cold , stood through it in the middle of the stadium, a broken pole bearing the score board.
The springs out of the display lights, on his broken foot..he stood there, shivering in the night, a small shawl laid on him.. fluttering through the wind, just as forgotten as he was.
How he missed his golden days, the days where, as white as a chalk, he stood right up and tall, eager to be written on.
Reminiscing about those days he shed a tear, the crowd all gone. He stood there alone in the stadium now and the fog took over, maybe afterall it was time, time to say good bye...
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