The (Mis) Match
The (Mis) Match
By Maria Vorobjova
On the middle field waiting for the signal
Two teams
Two different scenes
About to blend together
The young man
Earth polished shoes, shining face
In a uniform of high expectations
Sleeves rolled perfectly
Tie loosened flawlessly
A rough shape
Cut from the sheet of orthodoxy
The lad
Grunged up hair, grunged down dreams
Top button unfastened like his aspirations
Hardened from the school of knocks
Rough hands, harsh days
Knees grazed from reality
Climbing up a letdown
Reverse reflections
Opposite goals but the same aims
The next ten minutes
Success will come to ability
Not prosperity
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