Beneath the sun’s warm, gentle gaze,
The cricket field unfolds its tale,
Of battles fought with grace and skill,
Where dreams are chased beyond the vale.

The willow sings its timeless song,
As leather dances through the air,
Each stroke, a whisper of the soul,
In harmony, a dance so rare.

Shadows stretch as the day grows old,
Yet hearts remain forever bold,
For in this sacred, grassy ring,
The spirit of the game takes wing.

And as the stumps stand tall and proud,
The echoes linger, long and loud,
A testament to courage bright,
In cricket’s realm, a wondrous sight.