Under the golden sun, the fields ablaze with light,
Batsmen take their stance, with dreams of flight.
The bowler’s arm swings, a dance of grace,
The crowd holds breath, in this timeless chase.

Willow meets leather, a crack through the air,
Runs are chased, with speed and flair.
The outfield stretches, a canvas so grand,
Where every player’s dreams expand.

Shadows grow long, as the day matures,
Strategies unfold, with moves so pure.
The umpire’s call, the final decree,
In this game of skill, where hearts are free.

As stumps are drawn, and the day does wane,
Memories are crafted, in joy and pain.
Cricket, you are more than just a game,
You are a story, with an eternal flame.