I continue to stand
at the crease
Hot and dirtily
perspiring.
Comforted by a gentle
breeze
Fifty five not out
and contemplating retiring.
The pitch remains
unworn and bouncy as ever
With a lot of foxy
turn and bounce
That even the
strongest heart or bat may deter
As close in fielders
who are friends await to pounce.
The going is really
getting tough
The bowling is truly
becoming tight
Balls like bullets
hit the dirt so rough
Not over pitched but
just unhittable and right.
The bowler bowls a
beautiful maiden
And the fielders laud
and applaud him.
I stand like the
pre-retirement avatar of Hayden
Awaiting the next
ball; forever to paste ’em.
I continue to stand
at the crease
Hot and dirtily
perspiring.
Comforted by a warm
and gentle breeze
And hope I can score
another run before retiring
The crowd keeps
cheering me on
and that keeps me onward
going
My energy may be
going down
But my game is slowly
tiring
I continue to stand
at the crease
Wondering about my
strategy
Can I make a ton with
ease?
And pray God grants
me life, will and energy.
This poem is just an
annually modified litany, which has become more of an annual epiphany.
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