The Goalkeeper’s Lament
Things that I never did, like score a goal,
Autumn by autumn teased me as they stole
Backwards, like schoolboys, into a sunny past,
All heat-limned with mirages until, at last,
On came the tired army, up crept the date,
That sets it-could-have-been from it’s-too-late.
But then, I never knew! Time whiled away,
And only I who stood and watched the play
Could understand it all. Oh, giddy mess!
Of boots and numbered colours nonetheless
All added up to something; and I thought
What other people were, well, I was not.