My FootballerMature

I must admit that when I was young,

I had no interest in this sport,

For my father made me appreciate rugby,

And the martial arts he taught.

He sneered at those who ran around,

Dramatically kicking a ball,

Why use you feet that are so clumsy,

When you might just trip and fall?

He showed me how to play rugby,

But football being the country's game,

I soon was plagued by the idea,

That I should be the same.

I was timid in starting up,

Thinking I was no good,

But soon I started to realise,

With this game I could

Run around take shots,

Dive to the floor and save,

Tackle the various enemy,

From my goal I did not stray.

Now as I grow older,

And I still adore to play,

I met someone special,

Someone here to stay.

He is a fellow footballer,

A talented one, I must say,

He can curve a ball from any distance,

Not many that I can save.

He has the strength of five bulls,

But the heart of the very best,

At the best of times he's sweet,

But times the real test.

I never want to leave him,

For my heart is now his,

He won me over with his football skills,

See- that's how fortune is.

Yet he's not like the others,

Who sit there and gloat,

He has true ambition,

Only one could hope.

So this is my footballer,

The basics you must see,

For he his the passion of my life,

And brings me the most glee.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed