River on Baltic Sea

I sent your high serve back.

With a higher attack.

I dropped the shuttle over the net.

After a faked backhand.

I jump smashed it to your left.

The clear was my chance.

They said to always know your opponent.

Make him play your style of game.

———–

Behind the net, time mocked.

Driving the shuttle directly to my standing spot.

I only have time to return a feeble lob.

For the first time, I handed the future to god.

Their jaws dropped in silence.

They had no words to say.

———–

Thousands of words shot.

The strings almost teared apart.

I rolled over the floor and watched.

It fell on the corner and gently hit the surface line.

There’s no better way than that.

———–

Seventeen rallies won.

I survived the hottest month.

I looked into the mirror, you teared up.

Holding my hands and wishing me all the best.

Bruce Wu

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