Man, I didn’t just drop the ball,
I spiked that baby. I threw it
down like Shaq. Did I mean to?
No. The ball didn’t seem to fit
the mitt. The ball was heavy;
I was thought to be strong,
but that thought was wrong.
I didn’t really want the ball.
I just happen to stumble upon
it. I did pick it up after all.
At the end of the day, I picked
up the same ball I dropped.
There is no reason to rant;
I’ll dribble the ball till’ I can’t.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 
Dribbling is good. Precision work, developing skills. Dribble until you can’t …resist the urge to …? … feel the heaviness anymore? … Then what?
Thanks for the image and thoughts.
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I love your interpretation of my lines. I guess there is a ball there to pick up – almost like a new adventure. Thanks for the read!
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