A Gentleman's Game

• Paul Suluape, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2018

As I stand with my team, opposition in sight
The whistle blows, the ball takes flight
Two teams clash, savagely collide
Our spirits are high, with every scrum through the dirt
Legs on fire, shoulders bruised, players hurt
We scramble to remember our plays
Coaches scream, don’t forget our training days
My lungs are burning, my mouth is dry, dash on by
We crossed that line and scored that try!
The shrill of the whistle, we’ve finally reached the end
Pats on our backs, heads held high, no foes but rival friends
Jerseys torn, injuries sustained but we’ll continue to play
Rugby, A Gentleman's Game.