The Fumble

The Fumble


To throw it out there doesn't mean it will be caught,
you can struggle hand over foot, sliding awkwardly across the floor.
The breeze it created so close to your face you never thought you'd miss it.
Grasping the air and swinging your arms-
Like a bird learning to fly.
Sweat beading on your face and exuberantly hyper driven-
If I could just reach out a little farther-
I touched it with the tip of my finger.
Caught the end of the words that were thrown out,
still hoping to get the whole thing-
but it flew right past in a fast forwarded motion.
A let down of epic proportions,
no victory dance to be had.
I can hear the music playing in my head,
but I hang it in disgust.
If you can't catch it, they'll never throw it to you.
The simple or heavy words, never will be said.
So sit on the sidelines and expect to be ignored.
Maybe it's just this season, but don't be surprised if
it lasts forever.