My healing has begun.
A glimmer of sunlight,
This an opportunity, my friend.
A game in play, on this grey and windy day.
Tennis the game of season,
An ace, a deuce, a me and a you.
Successful from love to love.
The corners and lines, a kind of rhythm.
First set.
Centre Court seats.
Raising the game,
The air cool and the weak backhand noticed.
Commentary delights,
As the sun sparkles in,
Balls fly through the air,
The racket swinging to deliver a great return.
(Monday 25/6/2007, Bolton, UK)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem