#WritcoPoemChallenge
The sound of the stadium's roar,
Resonates with every four,
Down the pitch,
Over the arm,
Cricket has its own charm
Sitting whites in a beaming sun
A skybound six negates the run
Gathering tempo and to the fore
A sweeping shot another four
So close the prize, yet bowlers reign
Ten to go from only four, the pain
The run up gauged for maximum spin,
Trajectory pin point to deviate in
With ball at stretch and some more
The bat cocked to deliver more
The meeting of missile and launch sends the ball to yonder boundary on.
Four to go from three at speed.
Once poised, and the ball en route
A final wrench of arm and sinew and sweating palms.
The ball spins and careers to slips, is caught and held
The breath slides from my mouth, caught with consumate ease
The victory gone and defeat in tears