Match Point
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Zachary Morris, Grade 6
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Poetry
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2018
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