Misfits on the shelf

As I glance across from my work table, I see them there, placed randomly on the shelf. Colorful, restless and a total misfit. They cry out loud sometimes deperate to hit the field. They belong to the euphoria of the game. They desire the embrace of the unbridled fountain of youthful energy. 

I got them just before the lockdown for the kids from the villages. The shelf has become their quarantine meanwhile the young Ronaldo and Messi wander unaware. “Perhaps a little more left, the whistle may go anytime!”, I tell them. They remain motionless but I can see the tsunami within. The footballs, on my shelf.