The Game Winner, a poem by Paavo

The game was tied, thirty-nine, thirty-nine, A

I was about to go to the foul line, A
When a scary thought ran across my mind, B
What if we lose? After all of my grind. B

The light shined bright at my eyes from the top, C

Right as I released the ball, I came to’a stop, C
It took forever to process the thought, D
That the ball had missed when I started to’rot. D

The opponent came back the other way, E

As fast as an inmate who got away, E
But we were a pack of wolves ready to’flee, F
And stopped their quick counter-attack, yes we! F

We went away, looking for the last kill, G

The basket standing completely at still, G
Ten seconds remained, the score still a tie, H
I released the ball, ready to’say goodbye. H

And it flew into the hoop, perfect swish, I

The other teams’ hearts were completely squished. I