Backyard Cricket

When I sit and watch the cricket, there’s a place I often go
Through a window where I stare upon a yard that needs a mow
I am young again with brain cells that have not been faced with beer
Although those days have left me now, the memories are clear
Of a willow hurled in spirals to the calls of “hills or flats!”
By a kid who knows for certain – if he wins the toss, he bats
On a track where something well pitched up, could whistle past your scone
Where no man got out leg before, though ‘nick behind’ was gone

https://www.cricconnect.com/profile/1022/rupert-mccall/blog/1125/backyard-cricket