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