By Shaan Bal

Bounce, bounce

The tennis ball bounces

The racket feels rough in my hands

The good ol’ days

The wind whistles by

The tennis rackets went “whack”

Playing tennis

With the boys

The boys and I did not wear

Jackets

For we were under the hot, bright

Virginian sun

Having fun

Until

Tragedy struck

I had hit the ball

But the ball went awry

Bounce, bounce

But these were not good bounces

For the ball was heading straight

Towards the storm drain