38

I wrote this poem after the hockey player, Derek Grant was just tossed away by the Pittsburgh Penguins. His number is 38.

Oh new favorite, you surely will be missed.

I knew from the start that you would succeed, but I could never foresee this.

Your smile and craft bewitched me, but all I'm left with now is your curse.

Oh new favorite, please don't go.

You were there and now you're gone, leaving me stranded in a nightmare.

When you came in presence and touched my hand, I screamed out loud with joy.

Oh why do you have to go?

Oh new favorite, I hope you're in a better place. You were never treated right by the demons who tossed you away and for that, I hope they rot.

You were here and and now you're gone, but I'll never forget. 

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think of my edit. :)