Sitting here in a room full of millions
Blending in all as one
No difference in who they are and what they do
Watching for the shot or play of the game
Some routing for our side and some for the other
Who’s to say who wins in the end?
The crowd is so tense waiting with such anticipation for what might be
The point center is the man of the hour and doing things oh so right
What about that forward who had the crowd going all night
Some tall
Some but a short tall
Those left out of the cheering crowd
For they never got their tickets in time
Shake their heads in disappointment as they missed the game of the year
Those in the crowd mixed in their mind some sane
Some not what does it matter anyway
The crowd is happy even though the locals
Lost
We pile out like a herd of wild cattle
All saying we’d do it again
The Game©
Copyright 1998 • 2017
By Felina Silver Robinson
The Writings of Felina Silver Robinson 