Balls


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I could
lob bowl,
 

keep my nimble fingers
below waist,
acquiesce
to your batting prowess,
 

watch helpless
as white willow
thwacks
stitched oxblood leather
 

and you cross
yet another boundary
 

but that just wouldn’t be
cricket –
 

would it?
 
 

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