











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