Match Point

He lobs the ball
And aims it high
My eyes follow the sphere
As it arcs across the sky
I rush forward
As it bounces off the ground
Bravely swinging my racquet
I make a swishing sound
The racquet connects
The ball whizzes through the air
As it clips the net
I pray a quick prayer
It drops like a stone
And lands in his square
Shocked to my core
I meet his furious stare

FOLLOW US