Wishes
To have been a failure from the start
So dismay would
Scream more silently
And mediocrity bite less savagely
So the patience,
Cowering in the shadows of their greatness
Would be routine,
A familiar weight,
A feather,
Time eroded.
Eyes accustomed to admiring
Jagged blades of grass
And bitterly scuffed cleats.
Cleats bought in vain
For lack of chance to bestow their blessing,
Purpose
Still
Knowing they can.
Wishing they would.