A Boy Not To Be Discouraged

I have watched my grandson play soccer since he was one of a clump going after the ball. This poem honors a game that will stick with me always because of one score made by a teammate. By the way, my grandson is now in high school and still playing the game. 

A Boy Not To Be Discouraged

The parents of both teams united

in their smiles and applause

for the preschool boy with a grin

wide as the Mississippi, and arms 

raised like a superstar

as he ran back to midfield

after freeing the ball

from churning feet and whomping

it into the net . . .

         of the wrong goal.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor