The Rovers

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It was that time of the year when winter and spring
Walk hand in hand, with crisp wind, bars of sunshine,
Saturday afternoon cumulus clouds,
Splashes of blue, shouts of “muddied oafs”,
And a referee’s whistle drifting in the breeze
Across the valley to my mate and me,
Walking across the empty football pitch,
Right next to the Rodborough Glebe Allotments.
We had the whole pitch just to ourselves,
So I took one half and he, the other;
With a deflated tennis ball that we found,
And a discarded, chewed, rotting stick
We amused ourselves for half an hour,
Stud marks in the spring-dry areas,
Puddles in the winter wings and centre spot,
Flashbacks in the goalmouths to school games,
Childhood and youth, Saturday and Sunday leagues –
Like a drowning man, it all came back:
It just goes to show that you can play a match
On a whole, empty, windswept football pitch,
Just you and your dog, letting your mind ramble,
Rovers, I suppose.


Editor Note… every poet has his day (ouch)

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-rovers/