To grab the ball and run with it

His radio. He turns up the volume a little.
Just enough to drown out the sound
of next door's Sunday morning orgasms.
Please please me, oh yeah...
That's an old one he thinks. Smiling.

To grab the ball and run with it
To have a bit of fun with it
To give it back when you're done with it
That's the aim of the game

She stood on the sidelines
watching him play. Cheering him on.
That's when she knew, she told him,
years later, that he was the one.
He remembers their Sunday mornings. Smiles.

To grab the ball and run with it
To have a bit of fun with it
To give it back when you're done with it
That's the aim of the game

The pitch is still there. Sometimes he goes
and stands among the ghostly trees
and recalls running with the ball.
His heart beats faster. He pictures her young face,
her cheers lost amongst the roaring crowd. She's smiling.


Old Friends