At The Reunion – For John Milkins
¶ 1
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He holds out his hands,
says they are sore every day.
Old knuckles so swollen,
he’s never worn a ring.
¶ 2
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No protection like now,
gloves thinner back then
those stitched leather footballs,
weighted with rain.
¶ 3
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Yet recalling his history
he smiles at the past
a life fully lived,
in all its victories and scars.
¶ 4
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Joining other players
on this anniversary date,
for wide grins and laughter;
for memories replayed.
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