A poem worth a cheer

Editor, OBSERVER:

I wrote this poem for my son, Scott.

“Touchdown”

I played midget football

when I was 10.

I hope this never

happens again:

As I caught the ball,

I knew my pants

were going to fall.

Because I had no

hips at all.

I could hear the

cheers of everyone –

I did not know

how I could run.

I grabbed my pants,

I was in a fret.

I knew I had

this to regret.

After I had made

my run,

the coach, he said,

“Good job done,

son.”

ETHEL CARPENTER,

Brocton