The poise of the racket ready to play,
Centre court ready for a momentous day.
All are having one collective thought,
Such a spectacle, this British sport.
Strawberries and cream,
Champagne that is iced;
This is Wimbledon, it’s all very nice.
Ladies in hats with shade for their eyes,
Along with smart gentleman attached to their side.
They mingle and air kiss their way through the crowd;
A hubbub of noise, the laughter is loud.
Little fingers raised as they drink from their glass;
No plastic cups here, they are upper class!
Tension is mounting, the time has now come,
To proceed to Centre Court, the match has begun.
Quiet is called for, the match underway;
This is summer, this is Wimbledon,
This is Men’s Finals Day.
About the Creator
Sarah Fiander Harrison
A lover of animals, humans and our magnificent world. A heart bypass warrior, a mother, a wife, a poet!
A singer of songs, lover of life, so many things inspire my poetry. A Christian, I'm not religious, but I have great Faith in Our Lord.
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Comments (1)
Hehehehe this seemed very fun. Loved your poem!