Dreaming Of Wimbledon
Poem By Monica Engeler
Do you remember the long hours of practice?
Hitting those yellow tennis balls over the net
A forehand, a backhand time and time again
Do you think all the work is all really justice?
Did you ever wish of making the big leagues?
At least making it big in your favorite pastime,
Tennis the most frustrating game I can think of,
One day you win big, then you fall to pieces.
Practice, teaching, and more training,
how many more times do I have to go drill?
I dream of the day when I am at the top.
Some days all the effort seems to be in vain.
Occasionally in bed I think of participants,
Agassi, and Federer who were all there.
Wimbledon. Wow! And Center stage at that
I wish I could see the grass courts of England.
But we local players go out each day,
Or on weekends to just have a bit of sport.
It is such fun to get your anger out in a match
whacking that bouncy ball over like replay.
I still yearn the visions all athletes frame,
Winning that big important trophy maybe once,
Or conquering that tough victory for your team,
That is really the final goal having a great game.