I’m twelve, in bed
in freshly ironed pyjamas
so, it could have been a weekend,
my hero Jimmy Greaves ghosting
past defenders on my bedroom wall
an early autumn evening, air was close
and showed signs of change
I sensed something bad happening
just knew it somehow, and
felt the day would end poorly.
Then came the bang, wood on wood,
shouting, a muffled timid squea...
Sunday 3rd July 2022 9:21 pm