The breeze sings its song
through the trees
while I strain my ears to hear
the tale it tells, that wins,
with a rustle of leaves,
a round of applause.


Wimbledon roof closed.
Rain claps down in continuous applause,
drowning out the twang of ball on strings.

Site content copyright of Elizabeth Leaper (Libby).

Supporting the Printed Word

Read the Printed Word!