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Six weeks have gone by since the curtains were drawn,
And the League safely tucked up in bed.
The armchair in front of the telly has borne
My burgeoning middle-aged spread.
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Two months still to go ‘ere the season wakes up,
But it’s time to get back into training.
Forty odd games ‘twixt the League and the Cup
Are sure to be tiring and draining.
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I’ll start off quite gently and stick to the plan,
A few gentle rhymes to get going.
I won’t get annoyed if the lines do not scan,
Just so long as the structure is flowing.
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So when March comes around, I’ll be back into shape,
My verbs full of dynamic tension.
But the long weeks of torture I cannot escape
If I want to remain in contention.