Lost Ball

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 One fine evening,
to my dismay,
my football
got kicked away.
It was Aidan who took the shot,
aiming for the garage door,
but it didn’t hit the target –
it sailed far above the floor.
He said I should have jumped higher,
but I CANT jump ten foot in the air,
the ball sat on the wrong side of a fence,
much to both of our despair.
It was that sort of wiry fence,
that’s impossible to climb,
that sort of fence that wouldn’t let,
us make up for our crime.
But we knew we were not leaving,
not without my brother’s ball,
and if we didn’t get it,
we wouldn’t leave that spot at all.
We knew we couldn’t go over,
had established there was no way round,
no way on earth to go through it,
so we tried to go underground.
Aidan pushed his feet at the bottom of the fence,
a gap, he was trying to create,
I got me hand through the vacated space –
no joke when your glove-size is eight.
Aidan passed me a carrier bag –
he brought it for his muddy boots,
I slipped it over the sacred ball,
and there, we’d bagged our loot.
We passed the handles, through the gaps in the wire,
careful not to drop it,
then we finally reached the top,
and it was ours, we’d got it!
We say that we won’t lose it again,
but I know now we’ll do it,
I know it will happen countless times,
but I know that we’ll come through it!



All of this can be blamed on the rugby team who were training tonight and using the rugby posts me + Aidan normally use as goal-posts (it was either them or subbuteo-style mini-goals, in which there is no merit if you’re over 4ft tall.) so anyway we decide to take shots outside Aidan’s garage, and apart from the fact that it hurts to dive on concrete everything’s going fine – until Aidan spoons his shot!

Sure we could all tell similar stories!

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/lost-ball/