The soccer ball

I fly from someone’s boot
Through the air, feelings of happiness fill my stitches
Reaching my target, my destination
Gaining speed, ricocheting
I’ve been kicked out, left there
Another ball has been picked up
I’m waiting, watching
I’ve been picked up, thrown in
The player shoots…
Goal!
Oh no it’s the players 3rd goal he’s taking me home
I’m in a glass case begging to be used
Oh goodness a child is picking me up
But he’s kicking me, it’s the best
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As my stitches grow old,
My colour fades
And I get used less I know something…
… I love being a soccer ball!