Saturday, 21 May 2011


under the eye of the clock
far from the maddening crowd
and the rush hour traffic hell
the early evening is bathed in sunlight and possibility
the spring flowers exhale an inebriating fragrance
out on the all-weather pitch
the players dodge, swerve and pant around the field
raucous cries of protest and encouragement
pretty young things in ankle socks parade by
clutching books demurely to their chests
perhaps one of them will linger to take in the game
or idle in conversation
all is romance, youth and vigour
here and now
so long away and so far ago

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