Sunday, February 9, 2020 — 8:24 PM
While the good still die young, we’ll never get the answers to why death has no name.
Because love has no shame, who Cupid strikes it seems he has no aim.
To the angels we miss, heavy hearted in the mist, there’s often no goodbye kiss.
To him: I used to wanna’ jump like you, first shake and bake passing a few, to create rings with others who do too…
For us late-bloomers birthed by baby boomers, we take a path rarely desired by others in mass.
Idolizing the prodigies of a dribbling past. 13, oh my, I visualized what he knew as the…
No—we shouldn’t go there.
To be fair, my heart couldn’t bare. Would it really matter what happened in the air?
Answers are irrelevant and our strength is how we’ll grow from despair.
Mommy and daddy’s little girls you must’ve been their jewels and pearls.
This life’s a one in a million to grow old and make it through wicked morals.
Follow your dreams each moment you may leave this world holding onto it.
Smiling down now as each body now apart of our nature’s bliss.
From here we appreciate the unity of each coach’s stint.
Building a thriving generation and there should be no movie to recreate it.
But to each of our realities as sports has brought us to this.
We ignore our differences to cheer.
Accepting pains through a tear.
Uniting by the numbers to remain here.
Collectively we love but never in vain.
For life is here, and death possibly near.
Be grateful you made it to words despite life’s fear.