Roger Federer
A poem by Paul Pizzolo

Roger Federer

This man is not human
He is a ball machine.
Opponents can't hate him,
He is never mean.

Grand Slams his forte,
Winning five by this date.
Roche is his coach,
His new Australian mate.

A long time girlfriend,
A pocket full of cash.
I wish this was contagious
Like a little rash.

Poetry in motion
Especially on grass.
Admiring his backhand,
Namely on the pass.

Will he be the best?
Time will only tell.
But we know one thing for sure,
The Swiss are ringing their bell.