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By *rtyIan OP Man 48 weeks ago
Gateway to the Beacons |
In the valleys, where whispers meld with the mist,
A legend's tale unfurls, of a man with a gifted twist.
Barry John, the maestro of the green,
Wove magic on the field, a sight so keen.
From the heart of Wales, a dragon soared,
With a rugby ball in hand, the crowds adored.
His dance, a ballet on the lush,
Breaking lines with grace, in silence, hush.
The fly-half, a conductor of the game,
With every pass and kick, he rose to fame.
A Lion amongst men, in tours of old,
His story in British hues, courageously bold.
In Cardiff's embrace, he found his stride,
With the Welsh and Lions, his spirit did reside.
A legend, not just in scores or fame,
But in the way he cherished every game.
We remember not just the victories won,
But the joy, the passion, the setting sun.
Barry John, a name that echoes still,
In valleys deep, and atop every hill.
His legacy, a beacon for the brave,
A reminder of the beauty in the play we crave.
So here's to Barry, the king of the field,
Whose spirit in our hearts, will never yield. |
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