LEGEND

The sun going down,

Greatness sweating

To a new noun,

All eyes of

A tiny coastal town

Glued to the proceedings

In the middle,

In the eager pavilion,

A willow waits

And white gloves on,

Records get tumbling

One after the other,

Non-striking end

Gets reduced to

The prince’s running pawn,

Thus was an epic journey

Converted into the finest song

That the game of

Willow and ball

Ever heard on the chest of

Its turning wicket

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ