How many tears will I cry for you
Before I can forget?
How many times will I die because
you're not ready set?
I'm waiting on the touch line,
for you to sub me in,
take me off the bench I cry
"I'm ready to begin"
"Yes" you say and
my joy inside leaps and
fills me with its pain.
I run to you, heart pounding, head
reeling,
I've done it. I think
this is it. I'm ready for this game
I'm ready for the joy and tears
prepared to take the pain so
long as I can have you
in any meagre way.
I join the scrum and you are there.
You catch the ball every time, I
feel you at the side of me, we work
as a team.
And it's upon your arm that I learn to lean;
for it is you who catches the ball
and fields it every time.
You pass to me, protect me and I
trust
that I am fine.
I am safe,
I am with you.
I wish that this could finish there
that I'll stay on that field, for, I
swear,I felt
that's the happiest I could ever be.
But then you caught the ball
you ran,
not towards the finish line, nor the
place where I waited,
Still waiting for that ball.
You ran.
Now I'm out of the stadium, off of
the pitch, the ball has been torn out of my
grip,
not by force but by
trust alone.
I'd convinced myself I was your own.
You ran.
I waited-
You ran.