Still Beating On The Crease Poem by prita srini

Those were the days of the fifty's,
when the game for him was not a fantasy.
Even as the sun above erupted,
he swirled, bowled and swept.
Like the prey escapes a clench,
the ball would from his fist.
Now at an age only sixty one,
he lies confined and bed-ridden.
Watching the empty ceiling in peace,
his heart still beating on the crease.

I would like to dedicate these few lines to
mr.Muhammed Ibrahim.A great cricketer
of the kerela Ranji trophy.