Tennis Survival

Wed, 11/04/2015 - 15:48 -- woods

 

                    Tennis Survival

 

I walk on the court, confident like always

My opponent is still in the hallways

Her and I have always been big rivals

I am still waiting on her big arrival

I walk to the bench and set my bag down

I am the only one from a small town

We spin our rackets to see who will choose

I choose to serve and think be ready to lose

We warm up for about five short minutes

Then we start the match, ready for business

I step to the line, ready for my serve

I use my muscles and every nerve

I bend my knees and start to bounce the ball

I gaze across the net, the girl is small

I bring the ball down and toss it up high

It goes up in the air, high in the sky

I hit it and it is perfectly in

“Out” my opponent says, she wants to win

“Are you sure?” I ask, I know the answer

My stare burns through her, just like cancer

She says it was out, which was a bad choice

I want to attack, but I keep my poise

My tennis dress would not survive a fight

I don’t want a rip and have to sew tonight

Anger flows throughout me but I still smile

I wish she was on the bottom of a dog pile

She is fishing in troubled waters

Just like a pig when it goes to the slaughters

This match is very important to me

And I think that my parents would agree

I serve my next one, it is an ace

HA, HA, HA I yell at her, in your face

I smile at her with mean looks in my eye

Her legs start to shake, especially her thigh

Our groundstrokes are good, our volleys are great

The only thing pushing us is pure hate

She serves and I serve, it goes back and forth

We hit every way, west, east, south and north

Down a few courts we hear some guys yelling

One guy says the other one is smelling

Every match I play I hear someone yell

They should stop or their throat will start to swell

The last few games are very, very close

One of us will win and say adios

We play till the end, we battle it out

At the end we are friends, just like girl scouts

To play tennis you must be mentally strong

Or else your match will not be very long

You are your own judge, your own line watcher

You have no referee unlike soccer

A cheater will always stick in your mind

But you can’t do anything, you just grind.

This poem is about: 
Me

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