Hard-court War

By
Hard-court War

I feel the hard clay under my feet.
Holding the racket tightly in my hand,
soaking wet from the sun’s blistering heat.
Time for the opponent’s last stand.

Match point has finally come,
I throw the yellow sphere high up in the air.
The winner, I am about to become,
my eyes follow the yellow ball with an intense stare.

I strike the yellow globe with all my strength and force,
the racket whistles as I follow through my hit.
The ball flies as fast as a rocket without any remorse,
bull’s-eye, I think I can make it.

But yellow flies back at me before I can think,
shuffling backwards I set my feet.
It’s coming so fast I can not blink,
a perfect bounce what a treat.

Victory has finally been achieved,
I lift my hands up in celebration.
Now I feel relieved,
I lived up to my own expectations.





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