One cold January Sunday morning
On frozen mud in the mouth of
The goals to catch a rolling ball,
Too enthusiastic to pay heed to
The good advice of my team-mates,
Too eager to show off my skill,
To stop the ball hitting the net,
Ignoring all the warnings and
Rejecting all the memories
Of awkward landings and bruises
In matches all the winters previous,
Trying to hide my wincing face,
Too proud to let them know my pain,
Then stalling on the stairs to grip my
Swollen knee and hip the following day...
Such feelings return in hot July,
Lessons still not learned from pains gone by.
A heatwave hardens goal-mouth mud to clay
And we play two cup matches in three days.
No time to fear for slightly damaged knees,
The second game's a draw - it's penalties!
But injured joints don't seem to feel so sore
When an opposing striker fails to score.