Facing defeat the players froze.
Heads dropped,
Eyeing their own feet’s futility
Lacking in agility
Stumbling immobility.
They cower before the opposition lines
Love’s labour lost
Floored by the feats of others
Sapped by sudden equalisers
From that band of northern brothers.
Failed faces turned towards the turf
With ostrich like unbelieving
Leaden legs to jelly jaded
Their lack of skills paraded
Their lead relinquished, twice invaded.
In desolation they lie
Exhausted and dissipated
Ceding all thoughts of glory
Remaining ever stationary
Stuck in a shameful purgatory.
They slink off-field,
Off-camera,
Off home,
Without pride.
© Sheila Ash, 30th June 2016
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