The Coach’s Daughter

3 Jun




The Coach’s Daughter

by L. Stewart Marsden

On a patchwork blanket laid out at the feet
of a large gnarly oak, centuries old, part of the
broccoli-like trunks that supported the cool canopy above,

The coy lovers toyed with each other,
laughing and hugging, caressing and more
as the sultry evening poured its elixir upon them.

He, the starred athlete her father had coached
mentored and guided and seasoned and more
who led the school’s teams to historical heights;

Who had every girl’s heart in the palm of his hand
and strutted the cockwalk with never a doubt
that he could win all — if he wanted, or not.

She, who watched from the bleachers at her mother’s side
and with every heart there, sat on edge as he
plied his magnificent skills on the field.

She would yield, if he wanted, beneath the oak tree
and give him what had been withheld from all others,
and closed her eyes and watched as he crossed o’er the goal.

His goal was not in that glen on that day, but a distant hilled future
with magnificent men who gloried and swore on gladiated fields,
with laurels and hoorahs from pigmented fans.

Those were his plans — not the quick moment they shared
on that blanket that evening as fireflies emerged
and they merged to the sway of that green canopy.

The coach was not fooled, not beguiled by the lad,
he knew as they left for their picnic that day
that his daughter would do what he needed be done

To present him at sometime her athletic son
who would hold the potential of the coach and the boy,
the coach’s daughter indeed had crossed off that goal,

and the athlete had dutifully provided the deed
to ensure that the coach’s lineage and seed
would continue in victory, in victory indeed.


Copyright © by Lawrence S. Marsden, 3 June, 2014

4 Responses to “The Coach’s Daughter”

  1. kaldina June 3, 2014 at 2:05 pm #

    I use to have one just like that when I was a kid.

  2. skipmars June 3, 2014 at 2:07 pm #

    The blanket, the coach, or the boyfriend? 🙂

  3. terramere June 4, 2014 at 3:08 pm #

    Not the twist that I expected…so the poem succeeds for me with fresh irony, a smile on my face and wonderment that a coach would ever really do that to his daughter….
    Shocking! 8^{

    • skipmars June 4, 2014 at 4:06 pm #

      Pay close attention to the stress and rigors of not only athletes, but their coaches.

      Shouldn’t be too many shocked/surprised readers. More shocking would be the coach donates his own DNA. That would be called a honey of a boo-boo! 🙂

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