All the pre-match clutter as they toss to see who bats first.
A day at the cricket
The crowd are people-pixels, sun grilled
And shimmering with hope. A boy, half aware of play
Picasso-eyes a girl in red; he looks away
At the sharp head-toss. She’s noticed; he’s thrilled.
He checks the grown-ups, engrossed in chit and chat:
Kids? – All great; work? – a shrug. Vacation
Plans? A nod, a smile, a frown. Commotion –
A wicket falls. Distracted. All half clap
‘That’s a shame’. Boy nods. Pretends not to know
She’s grinning. ‘A beer?’ ‘Yes please.’ ‘Oh good shot!’
‘He’s looking set.’ ‘Good toss to win.’ ‘We’ll not
Be long.’ The boy nods, desperate they go.
Alone, he turns. The girl has gone. First hope soars
Then falls. Life mirrors cricket. A day at Lord’s.
actually I was at the Oval not Lords, but who’s counting…
What a stunning way to embed an analogy–the never-ending cycle of love-at-first-sight and games of cricket. The language mirrors the give and take of plays, ah, then defeat. Cupid moves on, unseen.
LikeLike
Thank you Charli. I’m battling with your prompt btw but I will get there!
LikeLike
I love the poem!
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike
A perfect catch. Well done!
LikeLike