Love-love, I serve the ball,
I miss completely; it hits the wall.
Fault one, it goes right in,
He misses the ball; I hope I win.
Fifteen-love, I serve an ace,
Thirty-love, keep up the pace.
My next serve, I fault twice,
My coach comes to give me advice.
Thirty-fifteen, we’re almost tied,
Thirty-all, my ball was wide.
Thirty-forty, his shot was great,
Game point, keep up the rate.
Deuce! Deuce! We are tied,
Two points to win, I hit with pride.
Ad, deuce, ad, deuce, will it end ever?
I get the ad; never say never.
Match point again, the score is fault one,
I’m really annoyed; it could’ve been done.
The next serve goes in; he hits it back,
I smash it to him, just like an attack.
We rally forever, or so it seems,
I’m getting tired; I would win in my dreams.
He hits it to me; I slam it down the line,
Is it in or out? Is it his point or mine?
The call’s in my favor; I can’t believe I won,
Who will I play next? He’s love, and I’m one.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.