The Beautiful Game Poem by George Pairpoint

A slowly paced quick step carries you forward,
Toward a noticeably miniscule mass of green,
You step out into the gloomy brightness,
Of a beautifully cold summers afternoon,
The crowd greets with rapturous silence,
They hurl abusive compliments toward you,
Punish you with encouragement,
Fuelling another deathly game of life,
You set yourself ready to move into stillness,
Irrational probabilities flood your head,
The doom of the scene fades,
Colour returns
Life,
A ball is kicked.