just one more game

i miss

the bumps and bruises,

the muscle 

aches,

the sprains.

the sound

the balls makes

going through a basket

or swirling

through

the air to open hands.

i miss the rough housing

of sports

played

on the field

or black top courts.

the crack of a bat,

the thud

of a ball in the mud,

the rain,

the new fallen snow.

the sprint

on freshly cut lawns.

the jostling for an inch,

the joy,

the despair of it all.

i miss

the bloody nose,

even the broken bones,

the comradery of men.

oh, to be young again

once more,

for just one more game.