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Old 05-11-2011, 09:31 AM   #1
JoelDali
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Join Date: Mar 2009
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Default Nadal Decline Poetry

The Spaniard slows his frantic pace
In pain and desperation
His aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration

Stiff as wire, his lungs on fire
With just the briefest pause
Then flooding through his memory
The echoes of old applause

The Spaniard stares with glassy eyes
Defies the double fault
His eyes are white, his face is lined
And streaked with tears of rage

5 years years ago, how the shots would flow
With passion and precision
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision

And he stares out Arthur Ashe's stadium door
Where the sun will rise no more...

Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the troll who once could see
The bell tolls for thee...


Goodbye Rafa

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There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live and too rare to die.
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