THE GHOSTS OF WIMBLEDON

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Photo by David Ramos/Getty Images

 

 

WIMBLEDON WHISPERS

The roar is muted

The ladies have left

Gents have vanished

Centre Court – abused and battered – at last rests

A single sprinkler says, “relax, and drink”

And, from my press seat, G-165, I sit in amazement

Tennis bliss

Though the cathedral is empty

My imagination soars

For the ghosts of Lenglen and Tilden, Budge and Kramer still swirl

Echoes sound

A voice whispers, “Well played.”

Here giants in white have long battled bold

Here Novotna still weeps

Becker still dives

Sampras serves free

Serena battles fierce

And Swede Bjorn falls to his knees

One last time

Here Chrissie’s backhands remain immaculate

Martina charges on

Mac’s explosions still thunder

Here, in this stillness

The quiet knows

Every triumph celebrated

Every tear now dry

For while generations pass

Wimbledon remains

Generous stage, sporting temple

Sage and witness

And, in silence, I embrace its gift

A love for all time

Bill Simons

July 16, 2017,

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