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“….quietly at home, after a long illness….”

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Oh, Saggers is dead then.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Should I go or just send flowers?
We weren’t really friends,
we played on the same team for a couple of years.
He played on the wing, as I recall.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 I don’t like funerals, standing around,
trying to look sad, finding nothing to say,
watching the rain scratch
at the cellophane over the flowers,
blurring the sentiments.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 We used to play up by the crematorium
but it’ll be cold up there just now,
up by the field
where we won that cup
two years on the trot.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The tarpaulin flapping
on the roof of the changing rooms
The sheep cropping grass in midfield,
wind bowling paper down the touchline.
It’ll be cold, stood around.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Ah, that day he swept down the wing,
brother of the wind,
blonde rag of hair streaming behind him,
ball glued to his boot.
He left three defenders sat on their arses
and put in that wonder cross
that sealed it.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Should I go or not bother?
I hardly knew him,
I haven’t seen him to speak to for years.
I don’t like funerals.
I wouldn’t know what to say.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 But I might just go,
show me face,
show some respect.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/quietly-at-home-after-a-long-illness/