A tense game played out at top volume.
Weeds three feet high,
make tidy play almost impossible.
A pass back short, away from the defender.
A collective lunge,
the ball skids high over our keeper.
Next thing I know I’m flat on the floor,
water flying, books, electronics,
in upended uproar.
My desperate kick to save one for the team,
caused me to crash out of my bed,
and out of my dream.
My wife wondered what the noise was about.
I suggest foxes playing football,
in a late knockabout.
In a post-match interview, I was forced to admit,
my poor back pass caused the commotion,
and put me on my arse.