A Poor Innings (Second Draft)

Indifferent, black,
Gliding through gates,
The mayor’s car passing
Parents late,
Direct towards where the ‘Debate’ was taking place.

One paused and glanced at
The mounting heap of
Flowers by railings in a pile
For the girl whose smile
Was now erased, removed that morning
Without warning, from the database.

The bustle of this final,
Coupled with the loss
The blossom, sunlight, breeze
Creates a queasy sense of beauty.

Then rocks up the Cricket Team,
Bedraggled angels in defeat,
Dragging bats and grass stained pads
Recounting minor tragedies.

“We got slaughtered – semi pros – bowled out
With fifty runs to spare,” but in the sun they’re too young
To truly care.

They set up wicket, waiting for lifts,
And ignore the warnings, bowl a ball
Into the thicket of bouquets for
The girl that was now called out,
Dislodging words of loss and love,
While the speakers inside mount the stage
To persuade the judges to part with their prizes.