the old rim (poem a day 8)

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it rattled
and frayed
in the late evening wind


a make wrapped in net,
a miss down the hill


scrounged up leather
scraping flakes of orange rust
off the shaken backboard,
WARRIORS written
in faded letters across the top


thirty more,
ten in a row,
hit the last one,
hours were never enough


the sweat caked with dust
and pebbles in my shoes,
it felt like the beginning
of a self-fulfilled dream


I still think it was,
it just never ended
and I'm
still shooting

Created: Apr 09, 2014

Tags: poetry, the old rim, basketball, poem a day

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