Wee jinky fast as lightning moves in and out at speed, a flash of number seven, towards the goal, then amongst a sea of green an uproar of ecstasy and passion all at once, the Glasgow Celtic sing as one, as the king of the wing holds court in his paradise of dreams.
Michael Cochrane ©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved the king of your poem my friend! Extremely well penne