Part of the Flock

It all started when the flock lost, and the little boy felt down and blue. It was his favorite team

that lost and made the boy feel the same bright color as the sky. The ocean even seemed less distinct than what the boy was feeling.  As his heart turned from red, to the complete opposite in a cold transition. Even though there was loss as cold as color was to ice, the boy knew there would always be a next season until the day he passed.

The color of the flock he belonged with was purple and were called the Ravens. His favorite bird was introduced by the violet colored feathers of the bird. So majestic, and so quiet throughout the day, and as it blended into the night, as did the birds color. The field the men played on was filled with the pride of Baltimore at midfield, mixed with yellow and a shade of an eggplant.

Black is the color of the night, as is some of the feathers of the flock. They are convincing, full with pain, ready to conflict the same feeling with others in order to succeed. At the end of the day, all it takes is one player that moves through the night as quick as a raven, to dominate the field.

Silver is the color of the Lombardi trophy. The metallic and glorious color of champions, reached by many before. Legends have hoisted something that was shiny much like it, just in a different form. This is also the color of jewelry the players received, to remember that heroic night. They will never be forgotten, because hero’s never are… and neither is the flock… that was one with the night.