Poem #4

Hillside gossip godship sails
The question sits like butterballs
on the table
The guests sing or cry if they are able
Like everything from the silver balloons
It had such grace, was gone so soon
Showed a toughness, an enduring fiber
They all sat ringside but they all were fighters
Each with a string of wins and losses
The shoulders squared that bearing crosses
Drag through private life not bold nor brawn
Just muscled enough to hold what’s put upon
Just enough to go that extra step
To put the ball over at the net.