1/16/19
Under The Equator
Down under, under the Equater, the heat rises off the court. The players are suffering through. This season shall begin.
The older and decorated. Gushed over, respected, feared. For good reason. They have accomplished. Some will break.
The younger and intimidated. Ignored, overlooked, punked. Anonymous. But not for long. Soon, the racquet will turn.
Commentators with their thoughts. Former players who know. The physical toil. The psychological toll. Memories of glory.
Down under, under the Equater, the lines don't lie. Roars of exertions, screams of effort, groans. Intentional intensity.
Miss Those Dogs
**Co-Write, JR Russell Left me again, this time she took the dogs. Last time she left, I spent 3 weeks in an awful fog. She wouldn't e...
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