STANLEY MATTHEWS
¶ 1
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Matthews blows through Heaven’s Door
Slight as summer shadows
Impossibly lean
The graceful strokes of genius
Reflecting the light of memories
With a shimmy of hips
And new miracles
He turns into the wind arrow smooth
And pierces black and white pitches
Paints colours vibrant earthbound
The Immortal Footballer
Never still not for a moment
Leaves God breathless
Boots on fire…
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