No winning this game of love.

Advantage- Her

In tennis love means nothing but in many ways I see
A startling resemblance to the game of love for me-
Frenetic volleys back and forth with nets we can’t get through-
But God- I thank my lucky stars I’m playing it with you.

I can not say who calls the shots; this isn’t win or lose-
And I must say I’m sorry there are rules we didn’t choose.
I have no heart to beat you but it lives to see you play,
The truth be told I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I won’t discuss your form, your serve; we know that you’re the star-
But I’m this crazy guy in love with others things you are.
I can’t believe I’m standing here, a racquet in my hand-
And “Love” may mean I’m losing- but it’s just the way I planned.

We both were clearly born to serve, so this must be our game.
I grin inside to hear them call “Advantage” and your name-
I live to see you win it all- but next time it’s an ace-
I’ll count myself the winner for that smile across your face.

John H. Bidwell