‘Twas the moment before kickoff,
and in all New England junctions,
nothing was moving,
not even at Dunkins.
Homes full of hope and cheer
Welcomed guests from far and near;
Wearing Patriots blue
Bringing chips, dips and beer.
With wings and guacamole aplenty
the craft beer cold,
My spot on the couch secure,
Heather’s #12 jersey sans fold.
All through New England a similar scene,
Settling in for the championship game:
Pregame hype finally ended,
the prognostications extended.
Super Bowl fifty three was set to be played—
The teams in their finest uniforms arrayed.
Frozen for a moment in time,
A football tableau sublime.
On one sideline stood leader Tom Brady,
Beside familiar faces—Gronk, Edelman, the McCourty twins
Even dour Belichick in his hoodie
Seeking the sixth of Super Bowl wins.
And we in our waiting,
scornfully dismissed the hating.
For we knew without a doubt—
As long as time remained in the contest,
Our Patriots would give their best.
Though you may hate the GOAT,
And think the Patriots cheaters,
Watch as the game advances
How the future Hall of Famer seizes his chances.
Like the game, this doggerel has no fix,
So Happy Super Bowl to all,
And to all a good number six.
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