Cricket

​

 

We stand, waiting

In British summer sunshine

Ultraviolet heat 

 

Like stumped out cigarettes, 

Left to burn

 

Silent, stillness

With sun cream soaked skin 

A delicate dust haze

 

Clenched cane handle

38 inches of willow tree

We’ll pop this bounding cork 

 

Rising from the ashes

We are phoenixes on fire 

 

Test our limits with 

A five day desire

 

Cricket is all we know 

And just watch us 

For boldly we will go