Grand Final
Heroic Sonnetthese revered gladiators now unfold; the sun is warm, it is still early night as the combatants enter; eyes behold bold rippling muscles- minds are set to win. Their dedication’s tangible, it thrills spectators’ tribal instincts- let’s begin! The first hit is a winner, shows off skills honed fine in years of agonizing pain- the sculpted bodies, bronzed like statued gods, advance, retreat; strike fast- and hit again. When all seems lost- advantage changes odds, the crowd is yelling fiercely, urging on two tired fighters, on the bright green field; the sun has set- the early bets foregone, all eyes are riveted on who will yield. The final break is there, the last ball’s served- it is a top-spin lob- in beauty curved. ©Leny Roovers 30-1-2005 |
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