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Hold The Back Page

Number Ten

Wednesday, February 25th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The ink rubs against my fingers
As I scan the back page.
Faces of anguish, celebration and despair
All stare back depending on the night before.
A bold headline beams out
Holding a mirror to the colourful image.
Some may frame this moment that brought ecstasy
Some may throw it out with the other rubbish.
A story retold in a matter of seconds
The marathon of the night becomes a sprint in the morning.
Inside the story evolves
A body is added to this face.
But to replicate what is past cannot be achieved
No matter what words are chosen or vividness of the images.
All that is left is the aftermath
With countless discussions and analytical talk.
Only manages to crystallise
For all the unfortunate ones who weren’t there to see.
I fold the paper over and keep walking
Throwing it to one side when I am done.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/hold-the-back-page/