A Footballer’s Great Escape
¶ 1
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Soundtracked
By a single Cello,
In black and white.
Is this match replayed out
In his head.
Stark as bones
Through bloodshot eyes.
¶ 2
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No dialogue
Just the heaving of lungs.
The pitch revolves
Around staggered feet.
Slow
Dancing rain
Spotlights a hopeless waltz.
¶ 3
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The final reel
Brings a second wind
That is more a faint breeze.
Then the act suddenly halted:
A harsh whistle
That withers to a gentle lament
For the passing of youth.
¶ 4
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The credits roll.
His mind fades out
Into sleep
Relaxed
Thankful and knowing
There was never
A better time to stop.
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