Champions’ League Final

Madrid flares, but they sleep.
The Brownie in the Planetarium beside stuffed animals,
the Crazy Bones in the wrong bed with Charlie and Lola.
The Cat, that I work for, on the idle boiler – doh!
The Dog, with his teeth sheathed, on worn leather and
the Guv’nor, sun-blasted and Pinot Noired out,
tired from hanging off the scaffold all day.
He turned it on: Inter &…
but only Jose and I are watching.
Calm down he gesticulates
in Portugese.
And the house will wake for the last minute and say –
What a cracking match!

Posted on May 22, 2010, in Football, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Great – I can see it and feel it!

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