The Short Lad's Spell

I fondly recall that fateful eve,
When my eager kinsman made me watch.
With naught else to do, I sat down reluctant.
Timidly asking what made it special,
As the Culers chased the Red Devils.
There I caught sight of a short lad turning it to sorcery.

Despite giants towering o'er him
His will indomitable, focus unwavering,
Ignoring their pounces,
He wove through giant legs
Like a mouse 'scapeing cats.

Moments of beauty and grace followed,
And that trickery left jaws agape.
Weaving magic through the air,
Winning accolade after accolade
Yet his humility soared higher still.

Years gone by, with youth and prowess fading,
Holding what he coveted most,
Scores of loving fans surrounding him.
But the same profound humility remains.
Though walking slower now,
His sorcery still enthrals me as I sit.
Witnessing the greatest of all time.