Its cricket again. India was World Cup runners. It was an awesome moment for us Indians. But, saddening part was also there that they lost in the finals. This poem was written during my eleventh annual exam.
Fourteen teams fight,
with seven on each side.
Each play six,
is what the ICC fix.
India making a quiet start,
but, ending the league with a bulls-eye dart.
Its all about beating the Pakis,
where each of us believe as luckies.
Everything behind Sachin and Sehwag,
but, our captain doesn't want to talk.
Zaheer and Srinath on their pacy way,
joined by Nehra at the blue moon bay.
Kaif and Yuvi, the blended youth,
also with Mongia, having in some faith.
Nobody could be compared to the THE WALL Dravid,
who will never ever become livid.
If Bhajji hits a six, a lion roars,
but, if Dada hits a six, a mouse squeaks.
The cup of joy is their choice,
Win the World cup, Come on Boys.
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