Silence.
The writhing crowd
had gone its myriad ways.
The still ground
is covered with
the excrement
of the crowd’s joy.
And the faint echoes
of the screaming
and chanting
mass of civilisation
can just be heard,
though the seats
are empty
and the stands
echo with the
whistle of the chill wind.
There on the ground
the flag of
the losing side
lays trodden,
among the cans
and half eaten
packets of fast food.
This is the
end of the game,
with nothing left
except the memories
of what was played
and what will be re-played
by those who
contested and witnessed
the now silent event.
3/10/2016