Taking it in turns
to run a kick's length ahead,
brother Dan and I
short-passed and marked
the brand new ripe red leather Sherrin
all the way up Robinhood Road.
Neither of us had dared to believe
the prize we'd won for filling out a coupon
to say why we liked White Wings flour
in ten words or less
would be an actual footy.
Plastic, we assumed.
But Jack O'Sullivan the grocer
had calmly reached beneath the till
and presented us with
real leather and laces.
We each signed
and shot out the door.
Turning right on the home stretch
down Wallis Avenue,
Dan positioned himself to be
the receiver outside our house
so he could be the first
to rush in and show Mum.
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