Baketball Is My Sport
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Olivia Mccabe, Grade 6
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Poetry
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2008
Frustrated, beads of sweat trickling down my face,
My heart pumping and thumping loudly with each foot pace.
Dribbling, trying not to loose the ball off the other team,
So tired, wheezing, my breath like steam.
Face to face with the goals, spectators cheering, I stare,
Gazing I took a shot in line with the dashboard, I managed to get it in, It was a moment so rare.