As you rest before I play

I anticipate the joy you will bring me

I get ready for the court and reach into my bag

I grab your handle and feel each ridge 

Like waves made of synthetic leather

Your grip so worn down from hours upon hours

Spent with you

As I pick you up I admire your shining and translucent disposition

Your pearly white color and pitch-black strings

Complement each other so well

The wind whispers through your strings

As I move you back to smack the ball

As your face makes contact with the ball

I hear a loud pop!

A soothing feeling washes over me

After contact, your strings dance and vibrate

I bring you back to ready position 

Letting you prepare for the next shot