The Field

On the emerald field of grass
sweaty soccer players frolic towards him
advancing the ball with every step
their feet gliding
every so swiftly.

In the box of perfect white netting,
he crouches down,
a cheetah
ready to pounce on any prey
who dare to proceed closer to him.

With his hands, bearing colossal gloves,
he briskly reaches his hands into the air
scrutinizing every move
yet preparing to execute a save.

Whoosh!

On the field of mud-cake
he tumbles
wrapping his firm arms around the ball
not letting go
as if he seizes his own life.

On the stands lit by harsh fluorescent lighting-bulbs,
the mass of heads applaud his deed.
Leisurely he crawls up on his limbs
smiling
with vigor like a blazing star.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback