How the Ball Flew

On the month of April, the day of three,
Happened a fortuitous event no one could have foreseen
Upon the array of lanes coated with grease,
We were all oblivious to a pending disturbance of peace

Up I stood, ball gripped in my hand
Hoping to make my shot grand
A step forward, an arm swung,
The ball spun, and hit pin one
A smile crept up my face, and out came a “woo!”
And up went contestant number two

Up they stood, ball gripped in their hand
Their eyes tunneled, in a tense stand
A step forward, an arm swung
With a flick of the wrist, the ball flung
Across the lanes the ball soared
Landing smack dab in the middle of lane number four

Their hands shot up, massaging their head
In a moment of disbelief, their face flushed red
With the grief of the throw
Landing a huge blow
They returned to their seat,
Slumping, and accepted their defeat

Then up stepped contestant three
Their face painted with ecstasy
A step forward, an arm swung
The ball spun...
And the game was done