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The Game


Dr. Dorothy McCoy

The game is in danger.

Perhaps, more than a game?

A new game, this game or nothing…

The player's choice…

Brown eyes brimming with anguish,

I seek the cold comfort of the bench.

I sit, a melancholy figure -- exhausted

By futile play.

Bruised and disillusioned I pass the ball

To the restless player.

Courage and passion can prevail.

There is only fear and cynical wisdom … my tears fall.

Why play if not to win?

Wisdom is threadbare when we shiver in the dark.

Mourn for



And the game,

Mourn for us.

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