Trust

My school wasn't into rugby or cricket
and the boys were only ever soccer soloists
or lampposts on a pitch as pitted
as our faces, the football ever so slightly deflated.

So I'd go off and play with the girls
with their sticks and rolled up socks.
Hockey was the thinking woman's game
and a boy's chance to play in a team
that played like a team.

So I was never quite sure why my dad built me half
a basket ball court out back - a board and loop, complete
with red paint square and string vest net.

I'd dribble and dodge, jam and jump,
try to dunk when lay ups would do.

One time a passer by asked for a shot,
over the wall of our garden.
I stood like a solitary street light,
fearing I'd pass the ball
and never see it again.

But I did, he got three points
and I got a chance to watch,
give a cheer and get a cheers.

Trust is like a ball thrown,
bowled, kicked or hit with a stick -
whatever it takes to give it to someone.