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Eight years old

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Eight years old and through on goal,
the striker understood his role.
With cool aplomb, he tapped it round
the keeper and then went to ground.
The goal a-begging but he chose
to emulate death’s final throes.
I stared, then turned my face away
from that dear game I used to play.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/eight-years-old/