It wasn’t the strike

It wasn’t the graceful turn,

Not the speed,

Nor the power,

It was the perfect touch of the outside of the foot that guided the ball. 

---

Caressed it, 

Kissed it, 

Made love to it,

Heavy light, light heavy,

The sound of leather on leather. 

Control absolute.

---

Head up,

Starts to see in slow motion,

Can I squeeze it through?

Is he seeing what I’m seeing?

Thinking what I’m thinking?

Where the defender is,

Where the defender isn’t.

Freshly cut,

You breathed air back into me,

Take the shot. 

Jogo Bonito

The beautiful game 

-scob