In this poem I tryed to make the poem go slow so you felt how bored I would have been.
The boredom of watching
Your brother play football.
Waiting for the high pitch whistle
to start the game.
Hoping i'll see a friend
walking around.
“Please can hockey to be
the same time”.
As the years go past
hockey is a different day.
slowly and slowly
waiting to go.
Sitting on the footballs
or leaning on mums shoulder
Dad on the field being the ref
wall jades on his back.
The wet grass
makes well a fresh smell
Begging mum for a hot chocolate
waiting for the horrid no.
As the years go past
the football get better and exciting.
Wounding why it was
so bad.
Sometimes I still die of boredom
but not as much as I did before.
