I went up in the loft the other day
“Just you be careful” I could hear you say.
Whilst sorting through boxes of this and that
I came across your old white cricket hat.
That took me back some fifty years or more
when I’d watch your game and try to keep score.
Then at half time you’d come in for some cake
that all us wives would so willingly bake.
Where did they go, all those halcyon days?
Endless Summers, which fled into the haze
of Autumn and put paid to the reason
to wear your hat for the cricket season.
Those days are all gone, and now you’ve gone too.
All I have left are memories of you.
Here is the well-oiled willow cricket bat,
and your cricket whites you wore with your hat.
Why did you go and leave me all alone?
I sit here at home waiting for the phone
to ring and to hear that you’re on your way.
But that can’t happen from where you now stay.
So until I meet you on your new pitch
I’ll hold on to these old clothes and the rich
memories of your cricket eleven,
now you’ve gone to play cricket in Heaven.