Sing in me, muse, and through me tell the story
of the innocent defensive player who finally got her shot.
She saw the radiant kingdom of fluorescent lights,
that evoked a sense of hope in her
the likes of which only Sin City could forge.
The dawn of the day awoke her
consuming her with anxiety.
For today was the day she came face to face with the enemy:
The net, so still, yet so intimidating
was her friend and her foe.
If she could tame the beast,
she could use its power for greatness.
Sing, muse, unleash a realm of opportunity.
To defeat the offensive row would be to accomplish much more.
To win the internal battle of insufficiency and insecurity
within a player, foreign to such aggression.
Undying gratitude for your graciousness, muse, for inspiring a fire in the delicate flower.