Skin-Tightening submission of artic air,
Water-stained glass panes upon which I stare.
The cat’s in her chair – sleeping quite soundly;
I hover the room, walking around thee.
Minutes until the last game will begin,
I ignore questions of “who will win?”
The seconds; slow, sour, and unwilling,
Build anticipation, quite fulfilling.
The music comes on – I really love that song;
The announcers talk – this will not be long.
Both teams line up and the energy builds;
I look to you, “I hope we don’t get killed.”