Well see here, my black rubber friend with two dots that stare like eyes!
I must say I'm quite fond of you for today's squash match surprise.
See, I played a level up today—not hoping much to win—
Against a very tough player with great court movement, good spin.
But at the loud clang of the tin at the close of the first game,
Behold! I had eked out a win, a faint echo of some fame.
At the break my sweat-drenched opponent I could see was bone-tired.
But my winning of game 1 was so sweet I became up-fired!
He's drinking water from the fountain like a dog at his bowl.
All that running the diagonal will surely take its toll.
As the second game begins I feel cautiously elated,
And as it unfolds my opponent's more and more deflated.
I hold my shots so brilliantly, my footwork, ahhh, superb.
I feign shots leftward, hold, then shoot to the right, which helps perturb
My weakened opponent, who has taken to heavy sighing,
A reflection of the fact that on court the sucker's dying.
Another game for me, and he's off court slurping like a fool.
A mess of gasping breath, twitching muscles, rivulets of drool.
Game 3 starts, and my opponent starts mouthing his excuses:
A twitchy back, a cough, a late night drowning in his juices.
And soon the tragic tale is through and I its mighty hero,
While my flummoxed opponent limps home, feeling like a zero.
In the bag you go, squash ball, I'll save you for another day,
You've got plenty of nap to keep you till the next time we play.
God help me if a seam should split you and ruin your facade!
Forever and ever I pray, saints preserve you, please, o god!