Sharpie and the Panda’s Last Walk
The skies were grey, the air held weight,
As though the heavens knew the date.
Through County Road, past fans in blue,
Two figures came — one old, one new.
Graeme Sharp, with strides once bold,
Now walked with memories grown gold.
Beside him, strange, yet oddly right,
A Panda trod, soft-footed, white.
No one asked — they simply knew,
A legend’s path, his final view.
He’d roared for goals where banners fly,
Now silence spoke, no need to try.
They paused beneath the arching sign,
Goodison Park, that grand old shrine.
The Panda blinked, as if to say:
“Even giants must walk away.”
Each seat recalled a mighty cheer,
Each brick had held the faithful near.
But time moves on, and even kings
Must fold their boots, must clip their wings.
Sharp turned once more, his eyes aglow,
As echoes from the past did flow:
“Sharp scores again!” the ghosts all cried,
While banners in the breeze replied.
And as they left, with slowest pace,
The Panda nuzzled Sharp’s kind face.
A friend for grief, a guard for pride—
A quiet strength that walked beside.
Farewell, Goodison, proud and stark—
You’ll live in dreams, in heart, in mark.
For legends pass, but love won’t fade,
Where Sharp once ran, where boys were made.