At 45 Of Second Half Poem by Pedro Cescon

Half a hundred thousand frozen,
They will watch till the end,
Bit less than two times a dozen,
Theirs is the contend,

Sure, half a world will fall from grace,
As though they shouldn't feel the shame,
It was settled in the place,
It was all part of the game,

But for those that'll laugh,
That is the most delicious time,
While they are caught out of breath,
As when a poet finds his rhyme,

It is when, at 45 of second half,
The scorer breaks through,
And then be tears or laugh,
For either goalkeeper and this who,

And in three seconds split,
We reach the climax of the show,
And the emotion getting us hit,
Makes us roar all we can... GOAL!

...GOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL...