The Game.
From the bleachers on the fifty yard line I watch as my child plays,
number 52 a senior doing it his own way,
Seams like yesterday I taught him to catch,
it was years ago.....my how the time past,
I see some one who was never me,
happy, loved, carefree a special some one I wanted to be,
As I blink to hold back the tears I have for this kid,
I look to the heavens telling my mom look at what I did,
My little buddy, my little man, my pilgrim is all grown up now,
this father who's so proud tips his hat and to my son, I take a bow,
Seventeen years and I tried to teach you all I could,
all those years it was you who taught me what was good,
A son I couldn't of made any better,
my son, my friend, I'm here for you always and forever,
As your journey in this world is about to take flight,
remember all that your mom and I said, yes it's true we were right ,
Be safe, be happy, be smart and always be sound,
don't let no one are nothing get you down,
and when you fall get back up it's who we are my son,
this world is yours for the taken now go out and have some fun,
As the clock on the score board ticks the final seconds and the games end,
unknown to the score I still see that little boy and all his friends,
And as I wait for that glance from son to father that sets my soul fleeing,
the old man in the bleachers is one proud human being,
The game of life is at hand and I know you, you'll be great,
always believe in your self and keep your faith.
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