A cricket geisha.

Are you dead white bloody and cold

With your smile wrinkled wide on the outsides

Then you’re top, on top of your game


You played on a low daily allowance

Your hands cold, in the deepest recesses of your pockets

You were slow, so old, you were so old


But you were there

A cricket geisha

And how you looked, as you went down


It was mesmeric

I nearly stopped to see

What went wrong this time