Saturday, April 18, 2015

Head Lines, 1

A new (short) series about words we use for head.

Hoopster Wilbur

The game was close; the clocked ticked down.
Then Wilbur stole the ball!
He dribbled to the basket with
No obstacles at all.

He laid it in so perfectly—
It nested in the net.
The clock expired; the crowd went wild—
No better does it get!

It was the only basket that
Young Wilbur ever made.
Oh, such a splendid memory …
But then he grew dismayed.

The other team was cheering—see,
It was for them he’d scored.
Oh, Wilbur used the ball, all right—
But failed to use his gourd.

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