She Was a bluemoon flower Blooming in own garth... Her petite elysian smize , feels the querencia... A kid of 5 Trying to balter in joy... Those two tiny feet Wants to feel the orphic sphere, Trouvaill she conquers In constant alarm Glorifies her from fear. The thunder of humanity.. Was slowly turning towards her.. But it seems like , she was homophile lover of life.. She was lost In chuckles of fernweh and nemesism.. She became the wallflower of her sky .. Setting the urge to connect the sidereal. Her turning age is now taking her away from toys .. She is loving companionship of books with toxicity of coffee.. Soul of innocent feel , Is in apricity of finest sonder.. And just she wants is miraki of sunshine in her life..
Right handed. You didn't run across the turf. You never ran. You glided. With an effortless grace. Your racquet was a whiplash, and you moved with a swagger rarely seen before or after.
[The first time I saw you play: 1st June, 2005]
9th September, 2011- This was the day I realized you weren't invincible. That you could snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Yes, you broke my heart on my birthday. (and a million other hearts)
28th January, 2017- Maybe because my head was telling me that you would never win again. (Even though my heart never stopped believing) And then you did win, and you and I (and a million others) shed tears of joy.
14th July, 2019- This was your chance at immortality. Maybe you let it slip because you were so close, because you could almost taste triumph. Life is cruel, but then you already knew that. So you smiled beneath the pain as they handed you the silver and not the gold.
[The 3 times I cried when you played]
Sport isn't really art, but you are the closest thing to an artist I know. There have been others who have been better at the business of winning tennis matches, but nobody else has left me slack jawed or made me go "WOW" as frequently as you did. (And still do)