On a summer evening such as this
It matters not if we win,
If our best shot misses,
For there is still life in old strings
And hope in grain so true,
Before the light has gone
Let us play on
And forget all we knew.

Forget those two sharing solitude,
Those who dreamt it all
Who know now less
Expect no more,
Remember instead brave shots
Conjured from nothing
Snatched from thin air
Leaps and bounds
And outstretched hands
To save us from despair.

So now I play on bended knee
Sending one last ball back to you,
In earnest hope, beyond desire
You send it back to me.