Dream of the Glory again…
¶ 1
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We gather
Beneath the leaking corrugated roof
The rain dripping
Caught in the flickering floodlights
Waiting patiently
The lost remnants of a crowd
A murmur erupts
As the teams plod wearily
Kick about dispassionately
Waiting reluctantly
For the whistles starting shrill
The game
Moves like the tide
With slow relentless ebb and flow
Mid week
Mid season
Mid table
Nothing left to win or lose
The final whistle
Nil Nil
To quiet applause
Wet and weary
The teams depart
Small boys chase their heroes
Across the sodden mire
And dream, one day
Of Premiership glory.
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