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The Game

It's half-time at the soccer pitch,
the favourites have revealed a glitch,
their striker has a painful stitch.

Their sweeper would gladly throw in the towel
as the referee declared his move a foul.
He saw the card and gave a scowl.

Something disturbed the midfielder's soul
when he, sadly, scored an own goal,
wished he could find a good deep hole.

The keeper made an off-side dribble
and took his penalty without a quibble,
giving his thumbnail a cursory nibble.

Knowing the problem to tackle at next night's training,
they pulled up their socks and began gaining.
Right on full-time it started raining.

By cherryk

© 2017 cherryk (All rights reserved)

This poem was written for the Ten Word Challenge,
10/10 Week*

This week's words:

Harvest - Equinox - Acorn - Foliage - Branches - Hues - Migration
- Growth - Frost - Gourd

* 10/10 Week - all ten words must be used in only ten
lines of verse.

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Ten Word - Ten Word Celebrates The World Cup of Soccer (challenge has been closed)

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