Mrs. Maradonna

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It wasn’t always like this,
in the Old Days, we’d had champagne,
roses, and a jetset lifestyle.
There was something about his hard
solid frame,
and when I first saw him
move down that pitch,
well, it was as if an angel had kissed his feet
and given him special powers.
I was the one who first gave him that name –
The Winged Messenger:
Deliverer of goals.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 He’d laugh, tell me it
wouldn’t last for ever, and that it didn’t matter.
But at night, he’d wake screaming, taunted by demons
who whispered as he slept,
of how his talent had an Achilles Heel,
and that one day it would all disappear.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 But for me it was, and has been, enough
to lie next to him,
and know that his touch is
The Hand of God.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/mrs-maradonna/