The Game

The whistle goes and the crowd roars,
I hope that my team is the first to score.

Everyone has a song to sing,
As the ball flashes past to our man on the wing.

How can the players run so fast,
Adn to keep on running until the last.

From a throw in you can almost touch your favourite,
But he is concetrating and won't notice even a little bit.

Then the number 10 steals a yard,
He strikes the ball so sweet and so hard,
Right into the top corner where you can see the net ripple.

There's a sudden pause then the crowd all cheer, the players hug and they go flying by,
The emotions so strong I have seen grown men cry!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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