Bat and Ball

Goalposts and stumps painted upon a century-old wall,

Craves the smacking reverb of bat upon ball.

The youth don’t play like we used to do,

Or graffiti the brick, declaring ‘I love you.’

Too busy on their phones selling souls with a pout.

But absent is the youth crying, “you’re out, you’re out!”

Football-crazy pigeons used to coo-coo the score,

But now they’re silent, there’s nobody kicking a ball.

Too quiet, too lonely, is the wall missing those games,

Where etched upon its brick, love carved our names.