PASSING SUNSETS

PASSING SUNSETS

Evening, and there is nothing
To temp me indoors.

Warmed from a day spent in the sun;
I spin it on my fingertips,
Pass it, to my team-
Mates.

Scoring goals
Win rolls of respect. Talents
Swaying to the chants; that
Tribal-like victory dance.

Ball of mesmerising fire -
Football skills that inspire. Cool
Moves; dipping, diving,
Thriving, in the company,

Until friends slip away,
As they are called in -
One by one.

Alone, with a crimson sky;
The breath I take is sharp
Like loneliness,

As the night turns - flat.


A memory from my childhood published by poethead in 2015

https://poethead.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/the-last-fire-and-other-poems-by-helen-harrison/
https://poethead.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/the-last-fire-and-other-poems-by-helen-harrison/