Basketball

Basketball I stand, pump fake, Step up and back, dribbling back and forth. Lifting each step, like the petal of a rose, Prancing in the dim light upon its floor. As I rise, in the still-waking sleep of a lion’s den, Its ferocity to the air in unity, withal and within. Like a thief, with quick hands, I steal to its door, Knocking softly on the door of titans, Lifting each step, like the aery lightness of a feather Cascading the floor with a shadow in the dim light of its victory, And I rise again, in the hallways of legends, The memory to the air as a banner of youth.