His ball was muddled green
like the intractable chop of a churning sea.
It brought him luck. It was his good fortune;
his hometown bowling alley
on his favorite lane. One final opportunity
that he hoped not to squander
before flocks of fans and family.
All eyes were trained on him;
to follow his every move.
The dream of beating his nemesis
would surely accommodate
his sense of fairness. Much ado
for the pewter trophy of a Grand Champion.
Written for the Sunday Whirl – Wordle #54
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 