Few could imagine the cold, black hand that has seized my heart... and may never let me go. The golden one... he of the soft, flowing hair... the second coming... our one true hope... is gone. Done for the season. And as he marches into the black, so follow our hopes, our dreams.
I have a fickle heart. Many athletes bounce within my view, I grow fond of them, but when their production wanes, I simply toss them aside. But this year, my heart found a home. It was the steely black eyes. The hunched, crouched stance at the place. The ease with which fly balls turned into home runs. He had a name, we called him Q!. Not Q. But Q!.
And now it's over. The romance is gone. As Autumn turns it's steely gaze on the midwest, as leaves turn brown and begin to fall, as the sun moves to hide. Dark days bring dark news.
He is fallen.
-bb13
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1 comment:
Haha, that's took some serious time to paint program that Q on the flag. Nice work. I'm just sorry it had to come under these circumstances.
-PSon
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