Match night ( back then )
Leaning towards the target
a granddad type shakily handed
launches his arrows through blue exhaled clouds
missies, curses, steps aside
downs another Guinness mouthful
while keeping a baggy eye on the board.
Victoriously piercing the dead centre
his young opponent creates a swell of triumphant roars
around the vault.
Fifty years of age and clothes style difference between winner and loser
but no difference to the latter in accepting the outcome
and with the help of the young man's hand on the old guy's shoulder
they share smiles
in true good dart sportsmanship style.
Bitternesse's or revengeful thoughts have no place here
among factory working associates
only repeats of ' good luck next time'
With the chalk numbers erased, arrows pocketed, glasses emptied,
the ' time gentlemen ' call
slowly evicts them into the late dark
each ' goodnight ' to each sincerely meant, an example
of what they and their hard worked but contented lives will always be about.