The Hockey Player Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

So many faces, so many players,
Wooden plaques hemorrhage from the trophy chest,
My elbow pads half snuggled between padded pants,
Giving that welcoming aroma of youth.

Break the ice,
Eighteen degrees Fahrenheit,
Winter carnival has begun,
A wooden puck from Victoria,
The dominion cup is born.

Pass the bung Colonel Hockey,
Windsor claims glory,
For the wrath of the rover skimmers,
Head-manning over the glassy surface.

Forward fifty years,
Ice dams dimly melt my breakaway heart,
For I have aged past the red-line,
Charging towards the blue-lines of eternity.