Cheer more than chase the ball

Here are a handful of hysteric men That seem to run random in rationed time, To pour sweat whatso be the reigning clime, Chasing the ball to goal as oft as can, Or in defense, for long tenure of ball, Wasting time or feigning hurt in a mime, Grit and guts, gumption getting mixed with grime, All with a view to holding world in thrall. There too are those sunk deep in cushioned chairs— Idle but crazy watchers, lazy bones, Save when they yell, lifeless roadside milestones, Couch potatoes all flaunting expert airs, All expert critics stuck within a wall, Who rather would cheer more than chase the ball. __________________________________________________ Sonnet |02.06.2004| football