Football Poem by Sohan Prasad Sharma

The game that is in rhythm with the body and the time, that is what we call football.
Stamina high and the body always in ply, sweating profusely running all the time.
Up and down of that ninety by forty five, with an intention to dance with the ball.
Dancing and dribbling we reach the goal and sometimes what a luck it is a foul.
The goal keeper watches moving and shouting, encouraging team and himself alert.
A chance missed is always a golden chance, who knows when will be another to time.
The crowd all shouting and dancing, the atmosphere more thrilling than dancing in the bar.
No toxic needed it is the wine, net is the glass, ground the bottle and ball the wine.
The moment of being in the field is out of anxiety and the moment of the bliss.
All the eye set on the ball, mind alert not to miss the goal as strikes the time.
Sometimes anger interrupts the peace of mind and if overtaken may be out of the line.
Suppressing the anger of the tussle, compromises are made with smile and handshake.
Ninety minutes of time is the moment, to break the opponent with the goal and the attack.
Whatever is the result and the goal, both the party seem to love to roll in the field.
The ball 'the wine' sometimes here and sometimes in between the game and it's roll.
The winner and the looser what so ever smiles and leaves the field hand in hand.
Nothing compares the roll, dribbling, dodge, the running and the sweating in football.
No game is there where with the player the crowd is intoxicated and lost all in all.