Weak sunbeams pierce a cloudy sky,
A breeze dries our sweat-drenched clothes
As we surround the goal, breathing heavily,
Anticipating any second, a forceful kick
To send the ball whizzing past our ears.
The cannonball charges, ripping the air
Sixteen eye-orbs shout for open mouths,
Two alert palms tame the raging beast.
A loud thud later, we scurry back
To take up guard, while others dash.