Old Ball

An old and well-worn football
I didn’t realise I’d become so unattractive.
Full of patched holes, brown-skinned and riddled with mould.
Deflated and limp, worn smooth to an unsightly shine.
 
I saw it as I peered through my unzipped gym-bag. 
The dreaded monitor, with its glare and flicker.
Displaying the checkout section of Amazon.
Its skin was thick and bleach-white.
It had perfect lettering printed with vibrant ink. 
It’s whole body was sticky and porous,
Fat with air, bold and new.
 
When I’m gone, I hope I’ll be remembered fondly.
So recently I remember all the smiling and tense faces. 
The grip of calloused hands carrying me through mud and dust and grit.
And the soft grass under the rare English sun.

Thank you for reading “Old Ball”

Read more poetry here!

And follow the buttons below to keep up with all my latest stories

Leave A Comment

%d bloggers like this: