A cricket Match

I have always loved cricket but being a bit of a dinosaur I like to think back how things were when Compton and Hutton were in their heyday,not to mention my boyhood heroes,all the Surrey side. I think they won the county championship 7 years on the trot,what a side.


The summers here,pon window sill,alights the early sun,
Delighted birds with happy trills,call for me to come,
The view through bedroom window pane,highlights the village green,
Where later battle will be done,in surroundings so serene,
In each and every village home,the 'gear' is brought to light,
The Vicars 3lb bat is oiled, the Church will show its might,
The Bakers shop will close at twelve,but smell of baking bread,
Reminds us of the task at hand,opponents must be fed.
The breakfast things are put away,no appetite at all,
My mind is picturing the sound of bat upon the ball,
I stand alone 'bout five to twelve in shade beyond the pitch,
Voices float on still warm air,a frog plops in a ditch,
The summer breeze moves grass and leaves,the smell of new mown hay,
A church bell rings cross golden fields, a truly glorious day,
I close my eyes in wonderment,the humming of a bee,
The voices seem much louder now,can they be calling me?
My mind goes back to earlier days when cricket was a laugh,
The game has taken many steps along a troubled path,
It worries me that man can lie and maybe cheat as well,
To turn a match that should be lost, to sound the games death knell.
Am I dreaming but surely not? old friends pass by and wave,
Mates from school and Army life ,some the Devil wouldn't save,
In streets and parks we played our game while barrage balloons flew high,
Protecting old and young alike,from raiders in the sky.
We took no notice we were young,happiness was a 'Four',
But keepers in the Park appeared,we couldn't play no more.
So home we trudged dragging our feet,discussing our next match,
But thinking "We'd 'ave won that game if Fred had held that catch".
The memories are pushed from mind,my eyes blink with the light,
Are those old mates marching away,they're nearly out of sight.
I hear my name I jump a bit,the games about to start,
I'm first man in and so I run with ever pounding heart,
It's later now the game is lost,the shadows lengthen cooly,
"It's losers buy the winners drinks", but our crowd are not unruly,
Outside the village pub I stand,quite happy with my lot,
I've played another cricket match,though runs I hadn't got.
I've had some laughs with friend and foe,blue skies we had a plenty,
My bowling figures were not that good,in fact 'twas nought for twenty,
So looking back,I'd like to think,I'd always played the game,
And as in life,I've always felt, the rules are just the same