In Grandad's tales of Colchester United, Under garden skies where dreams were ignited. A cricket match set in the afternoon's hue, With laughter that soared, and shadows that grew. In the allotment's embrace, he tended the earth, With hands that knew seasons and the cycle of birth. Yet referees, he'd grumble, with their fickle calls, For fair play and justice were his only enthralls. He traveled through stories, across fields of green, Where life was more splendid than he'd ever seen. A grandfather's legacy of tales and of play, A masterpiece written in life's fleeting day.