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An account of my discovery of Ozil's return from injury

Jamie McDonald

Once upon a Monday dreary, while I returned to work, weak and weary,

Weeping for another lost and dreadful season of Arsenal ball

While I skimmed through, barely reading, the injury updates for this season

I saw some news very pleasing, decent if I do recall

"Tis is an illusion" I relented. "a trick to keep me enthralled-

Only this and nothing more"

Ah, sweetly I remember the joy of a fresh September;

With Ozil at the center, 3-1 against Sunderland was the score.

Foolishly I wished for titles;--wildly ignoring the cycles

The departures and lack of arrivals-in denial of transfer windows before

For the Turkish and German playmaker on the ball

With shoulders that impress a loll

But the hopeful, fresh, expertly applied filter of each Instagram picture

Thrilled me-filled me with emotions I had grown to ignore;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

"Tis is an illusion like returns from injuries before-

Some cruel trick that I've seen and rightfully abhor;--

This is it and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating no longer,

"Sirs" I tweeted, "or madams, your attentions I must implore;

But the fact is I was reading some updates for the season

When I saw words intriguing-intriguing about the Ozil I adored

That I was scarce sure I read it"---here I lay on the floor

Two favorites and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I lay there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no gooner ever dared to dream before;

But the tweet was not retweeted, and a refresh was badly needed

And the only reply there was "he's a flop who doesn't score"

Then I gritted my teeth and replied back, "..doesn't score?"-

Merely this and nothing more.

Back in the office tired, the curiosity within me unexpired,

Soon again I read another update with more pictures than before

"Surely," I thought, "surely this is a figment of my imagination;

Let me click then, on this video, and this mystery explore-

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--

I saw Ozil and his health restored

With joy, I searched even faster, when, with many a giggle and laughter

There stood the healthy German that football romantics adored

No sign of a limp had he; neither winced or groaned did he;

But, with vision of Dennis or Pires, passed the ball to score

Passed the ball with ease for the strikers to score

Passed, and moved, and nothing more