Anyone for tennis? I love it, I’ll come clean
A massive fan of Wimbledon, in S double-u nineteen
The atmosphere, the strawberries, I even dig the queues
Nadal and Radacanu, Murray, Norrie, you choose
Hanging out on Henman Hill, especially when it’s hot
Delicious thwack of ball on racket, hitting that sweet spot
There’s something quite balletic, about how they move on court
The beauty and precision of this game give pause for thought
Does our love for the perfect backhand, drop shot hit just right
Intimate a hunger, for a more elusive delight?
Revelling to see that lifted trophy, golden plate
Does it somehow stir a deeper urge to celebrate?
One apostle Paul compared this life we live, to a race
One in which a Loving Presence carves us out a space
Hand in hand with Father God, when every game’s been played
Am I ready for that crown in heaven, that’ll never spoil or fade?
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