I wasn't there to see the game, but I was told
how hard you tried, the fun you were having
but you have your father's feet.
The other boys, bigger, better at football
teased you, not wanting you on their team.

I wasn't there but I can see the dark cloud
that would have passed across your face
shading your eyes, making you bite your lip.
You survived somehow, bruised, not broken.
I had to hide my tears when I was told.

Sleeping now I look at you perfectly peaceful.
Everything forgotten or hidden away, no clouds.
The thought of that small body, so ill equipped,
that slippery, silver mind facing disappointment,
the small, scorching ordeals, and I cannot be there.