This December moon reminded me of a long-ago tale,
Told by a boy thrust onto the biggest stage,
With the most looked up at, somewhat infamous, teammate,
National titles in the balance, foes of historical significance.
Yet despite the height, and the hype, they fell crushingly-short.
The boy landed in Spain, where he would be paid,
And handled, and taken care of.
The first day a whirlwind of activity,
With barriers of language, laws, cars and street signs,
Lost, at night, in a new land, and a strange city, with foreign faces,
Frustrated, intimidated, scared, ready to give up,
He looked skyward, and saw a familiar friend rising,
Which took him back to the summer nights of home,
In endless fields and mountains, joining hands with friends,
Playing childhood games that brought laughter, and comfort,
as they fell to the ground to catch their breath,
No pressure, where he could just be a kid,
Not a commodity, dodging commandeering attempts,
And, at that moment for the tall, innocent boy,
the world – Earth – grew a little smaller.
He knew in his heart,
he would be all right.