Basketball Court, by George Chow
Shooting the hoop of hood I have.
Sometimes glare through the Sun.
Or the motion focus on the body rythm rush.
The miss are to catch another effort.
Making are the once God look into alive.
But the audience is missing,
when the birds seem know what they are doing fly by.
As I mind my shots with each forseeing eyes.
That only the grass follow in the endless wave.
By the wind of God's breath saying,
those lucks may keeps you going,
and those passed away are making more and more memories.
For I did play by the cars and people's power made.
Then will play by the momentum returns by decade.
|Posted: 2014-06-12 16:16:32 UTC|
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