The old man’s leg kicks
The winger whips wide
He is on the frosted field,
taut frame and ten quid in the bank
Big runs, cold air in his lungs
Betrothed on the sideline
He asked for her hand
Planted spuds for diamonds.
Fifty knicker if you dig ‘em yourself
His arm swings
The foe is in memory;
the fist sinks in flesh
Go on – go on –
The screen flickers –
He is standing alone
The cheering has stopped
the frosted rugby field…so familiar to the southern players
Excellent, John. Double frame (nicely wrapped by the flickering screen). The poignancy is there, as usual. The sentiment (planted spuds for diamonds).