Coventry City

The pitch was the mountainside,
a snow storm swirled,
the ball flew into the net,
without return.

Now, the pitch lies empty,
an abandoned stage,
the Gods have vacated
the mountain clouds.

The giants of Coventry
are remembered here still
for after the match
they descended with us.

In the valley of the river
we were lost.

Sit by the water
and you may hear.

Author: Workers' Archive

Covering sensitivity at work and beyond on my website:

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