Poem -

The Game

The Game

The wise know if the game is taking a turn for the worse.
The score mounts up against you as though due course.
Nothing you ever do seems to make this situation easier.
Even if everybody was on your side points do not matter.
...................................................
As the clock ticks, you realize this field is not your friend.
The final whistle continually seems a reluctant Godsend.
Trophies should be awarded to fates conspicuous hand !
At the close you comprehend plays never go as planned.
....................................................
The game challenges you to stick to your pitiful contract.
It is the minor miracle when your integrity remains intact.
You gain some credibility displaying any degree of metal.
However, who is really interested in a runners-up medal ?

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