Sunday, December 13, 2009


Boys of twenties, nearly men
Played on a patchy field with sand
Yet they find it oh so grand
As if playing for supporters at the stands

Legs that weren't as sharp as they were
Speed of running not that sheer
Yet these we consider mere
Cos everyone, every friend is here

Goals weren't the utmost target
It is the time we could never forget
It is the teamwork with each team mate
And the errors and jokes together we made

There were times when the sky pour down
Made the pitch murky muddy brown
Yet it did not made us frown
As mud on us felt like king with a crown

I always miss the time that I played football during Holidays with my brothers at Esplanade. It is that special feeling that I will treasure and hope for more every coming holiday...

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