Hockey

        A cousin who went to a different school,
        Told me how much fun hockey was.
        I can remember going to my Mom,
        My eyes filled with excitement.
        But she said that equipment was a lot of money,
        The same voice that would say,
        "I don't know if Santa can make that"
        I begged with her for a week.
        She said that we'd see on Friday.
        Everyday I'd tell her different stories.
        -Sometimes they go on trips,
        and if you're on a good team,
        They'll give you a jacket-
        Once again my mother said
        "Jackets are a lot of money"
        But I thought if Santa can make socks,
        why couldn't he make jackets?

        That Friday, she came to me with a final decision:
        Hockey was just too much money.
        I wanted to yell at her, And then my dad.
        Hockey was what little kids did, they were robbing me of my childhood.
        Everyone else got to do that sort of thing.

        I went to my room.
        I tried to slam my door and then I began to cry
        I buried my face into my pillow, and repeated the word
        Why? Why?
        My crying was silence by an odd sound.
        I left my room to see what it was.
        It was coming from my Mother's room.
        It was the sound of ultimate suffering,
        I opened the door and saw my mother
        She was crying in the same fashion.

        It's okay Mom, I didn't want play that bad anyways.
 

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