Scribbles on an open range,
reminescent of my thoughts estranged,
attempting in vain not to desire this power,
to strike another man and drive him down like a tower.
Tremendous momentum rides with the quarterback,
my mind draws upon the joys of all my past sacks.
But I left football behind to continue my dream,
to open my emotions to the musical stream.
There's no good metaphor to snagging a pass,
leaping over the corner and tearing the grass,
Even in practice I'll miss the drills repetitions,
football has always been in my definition.
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