On fields of green, where willows sway,
Men don their whites, come what may.
With bats in hand and stumps arrayed,
A timeless ritual, a masquerade.

Yet as I watched with curious eye,
The game unfurled, beneath the sky.
A puzzle vast, with rules untold,
A labyrinth of strategies bold.

At first, a chaos, a tangled scene,
Where runs and wickets held no gain.
But slowly, like a creeping vine,
Understanding wove its design.

Through terms and cryptic signs,
The game revealed its hidden lines.
Each ball a chapter, each run a verse,
In cricket’s tale, a solemn curse.

For in its depths, I found my soul,
Entranced by this elusive goal.
A journey fraught, with twists and turns,
Yet in its grasp, my spirit yearns.

So let the skeptics scoff and jest,
At this game so oft confessed.
For in its subtlety, I’ve found my muse,
In cricket’s dance, I’ll never lose.