Mr. Green

This is a poem of when I first met my favorite football player and it didn't go so well.

Mr. Green,
do you remember me?
I'm that ten-year-old girl
you crushed.
I wore your number that day
to the NFL Experience in Atlanta,
carrying my football around
in hopes I'd run into you.
I met Mr. Jerry Rice.
He was a really nice guy
but I didn't want his autograph.
I wanted yours.
I searched very high and low
for you dark face.
Almost giving up,
my mother spotted you in the parking lot.
Excitement coursed through me
as we were led to your trailer.
Expecting a welcoming glance
I only got a scowl.
"I can't believe you're making me do this."
That's what you said.
The smile that I had
smeared across my face wavered.
I wanted to tell you
That you were amazing,
my favorite player.
Disappointment kept those words
lodged in my throat.
You signed my ball
but now I don't want it.
It's tainted with your unwillingness
to make a young girl's day special.

Author's Note

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