Progeny FC
¶ 1
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I jog because….
I just about can
even though my muscles mutter obscenities at me
and extremities tingle
as the pain of sciatica and arthritis mingle
and internal organs spout the bleedin’ obvious –
cease and desist, old man
¶ 2
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but I jog on….
I can’t pick up the pace or twist or turn
so really, I need to find walking football in my locale
but this is a different land
thus kicking is confined, to coaching in a different code (Gaelic)
¶ 3
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I’m chomping at the bit to share my old abilities
(if not agilities) –
I’m ready to romp with grandkids
to whom I’ll kick to both feet
to encourage ambipedal dexterity
that will hopefully bring time and space and opportunity
in the art gallery of a match
¶ 4
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but natch
there are none as yet (generation alpha)
even though my own progeny could propagate
however, they have yet to maturate
¶ 5
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and now….
given the moving landscape of modern life –
soon they’ll be voting for a choice
that could deaden the voice, of the unborn
¶ 6
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I might have longer to wait
for my longed for kickabouts
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