A Day of Tennis

Clad in white, I stand in the tennis court,

Beads of sweat rolling down my cheeks,

Then bungee jumping onto the ground

Moistening the clay court.

The opponent is on the verge of victory,

His face is flushed with confidence

He serves hard

The ball flies off as I play a forehand shot

He replies with a heavy topspin

That catches the centre of my racquet

As I play my masterful backhand.

We rally on for the fourth longest rally of the game.

Exhausted, both of us try placing our shots.

He send one back, and I play it to his forehand

Which he converts to a drop shot

Near the net.

I dash forward

And dive

My racquet misses the ball by an inch

And I collapse.

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