Love is a football game.
The field stretched out
With lines both horizontal and vertical
That define the boundaries of Love.
The goal posts stand like giants in the end zone.
Love is the stands where spectators watch with anticipation.
Love is the sound of helmets as they crash into each other
Love is the slap of pads
And the sounds of bodies colliding.
Love is the exhale of air as bodies thunder down the field.
Love is sweat, and tears and hard work.
Love is training and practice
And training some more.
Sometimes you just want to sit in the stands
And watch everyone else in love.
But often times, love wants to be on the field.
Love is offense and defense.
Love wants to be the quarterback
In charge of calling all the plays.
Love sends you on a slant pattern
And you are carried down the field
Love wants to be the one to score.
Sometimes you kick love
How far you go depends on the kicker.
You fly high, flipping over and over,
Spiraling through the crisp morning air
Hoping, waiting for love to catch you.
You soar through the goalpost of love.
And everyone cheers for you.
Love doesn’t always win.
Sometimes in love there is losing.
Love is trying your best
And hoping that you are better for trying.
Love is working with others,
Even if they are different from you.
Love knows the plays and how to execute them.
Love studies the play book.
Love knows the rules
There are no referees in Love;
No one to throw a flag
Or call a penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct.
Love is a give and take.
Sometimes you gain ten yards to a first down.
Sometimes love sets you back.
You may be tackled by love,
Or love sacks you in the backfield.
Love blind sides you if you aren't protected.
Love is taking the field or sitting on the sidelines.
You can be a starter or second string.
But do not sit the bench.
Even the water boy dreams of love,
Living vicariously through those who do love.
The football of love gets in your blood.
Love is overcoming the fear of loss,
Of someone stronger hitting you hard.
Love is a concussion, and hurt, and breaks.
Love is triumph in the face of defeat.
Love never keeps score.
There is no Super Bowl of Love,
Love drafts players.
Love is made up of owners,
Of Coaches and players.
Love has spectators, fans and sponsors.
You never truly know love until you play the game
Hope you Like my poem!
Hugs and Love to all:
Thank-you to all who inspire me!.