[Haikus are pretty.
Two lines of beautiful words.
But too few syllab.]

Fletcher's Soccer Team
This article is about
The Beautiful Game.

We have played three games
Since we reported last time
Two games won, one lost.

The mountains lay down,
they were moved by our first win,
Babson was our foe.

Little goals, big Goal!
Esteban Sacco the one.
When is it not, friend?

Two more were added,
but none were given to them,
the defense held strong.

The little zero
in the first column is gone.
The Diplomats Win!

The river flowed next
beyond the Design School banks.
Goals, too, flowed freely.

First Eischeid, once. Twice.
Davis, our goalie, struck, too.
Twice, like Keith gone wild.

Who else scores a goal?
Who else didn't, grasshopper?
Many, eight total.

The School of Design,
Alas, they, too had two. TWO!
But the win was ours.

Number 4 we were,
In the league table, that is.
With one game to go.

A fight for standing,
The playoffs loomed, who would earn,
the rights to home field.

A Frenchman in goal,
But Fiesta on our minds,
And in our bodies.

GSAS, Huh?
What are these letters, these lads?
Yet they struck quickly.

Three before the half.
Despair did not rule the day.
Fletcher fought on. On.

And one goal was had.
But that is all that they gave.
4-for them. 1-Us.

2 wins. 2 losses.
And two ties here at the end--
Left in the middle.

The playoffs--next week.
The spirits will tell our foe.
We can, shall, prevail.

 

Comments? Write us at letter@fletcherledger.com

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