A beautiful saturday afternoon during summer

The clouds milk the blue sky and the sun isn’t the brightest in the room

This is perfect

My mind is clear

And the pitch is bare

I’m going to put the ball, where?

Top bins that is

The overjoyous feeling of striking the ball to perfection is amazing

My feet seem to be on fire today, apparently they’re ablazing 

I put in screamer back into the net again

It’s lovely sight to see

The ball inside the net

The pitch

And just me

As time seems to just flow on

And the sun keeps on dimming more

I pack my bags

Head home

And take a shower

Because tomorrow has the same thing in store