Eyed by pigeons and the tall windows <br />of elegant cream mansions <br />she and he enter the court. <br />Father and daughter, mentor and child, <br />racquets swinging. <br /> <br />Left outside, I contribute <br />the only way I know. <br />From a damp bench, peering through <br />the barrier of wire, <br />I draw them. <br /> <br />Years later, I see that I have drawn <br />the netting round the court <br />intricately, lovingly, <br />like a prisoner viewing <br />the exercise yard.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/growing-pains-12-tennis-in-bournemouth/
