The Life of a Soccer Ball

Today, the grass, so fresh
I sit amongst the blades
Waiting for the touch of a single shoe.
The sun, in blue sky, heats my body
Just a swift kick is all I need
To get the breeze moving past me.
They say I am inflated
A large sense of self-worth
But if they only knew what lay deep inside
Just a little oxygen mixed with the desire
To be played with
To be part of a team.
My roll isn’t an active one
Black and white hexagons wait patiently
For someone to give them a push
Perpetual motion for 90 minutes straight
Back and forth along a rectangle
Sometimes finding myself in the comfort of white nylon
How did that happen so fast?
Cheers and yelps wafting around me
I am a hero, one, two, three, maybe 6 times a game
Everyone wrestling around wanting to touch me
Sliding on the turf just to get a toe in.
They say I am only a bit of stale air
Wrapped in leather, rubber and plastic
Not nearly as important as the people who boot me
But take the soccer ball away
And then what will all the boys and girls play?