The Cheering Has Stopped

The old man’s leg kicks


The winger whips wide


He is on the frosted field,


taut frame and ten quid in the bank


Big runs, cold air in his lungs


Betrothed on the sideline


He asked for her hand


Planted spuds for diamonds.


Fifty knicker if you dig ‘em yourself


His arm swings


The foe is in memory;


the fist sinks in flesh


Go on - go on -


The screen flickers -


He is standing alone


The cheering has stopped


http://bit.ly/2LHtRu9

Poetry posted here was originally posted on New Zealand Poetry

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