I am drawn against a new opponent today
A stranger to me I’ve never seen him play

He plays all his shots with lots of pluck,
Such a pity he relies so much on luck.

His friends cheer all that goes his way,
1 only feel dismay.

His cue swings wildly to and fro,
Not even he knows where the balls will go?

His form comes and goes in uncertain patches,
He often loses winnable matches.

He amazes all, who share the Pavilion,
With some shots that are one in a million.

1 remind myself not to get uptight,
1 know that next time will be my night.

Maybe 1 should check out my attitude first,
Before 1 believe of him the worst.

He comes across and offers his hand,
And says today my luck was grand.

1 realise he's much like me,
And doesn't take such things with glee.

In the next round 1 hear a call,
His opponent fluked the deciding black ball.

I see him stand back as he shakes his head
Wishing that he’d potted his own last red.

Luck can’t be relied on as your fate it decides
And then without remorse changes sides.

Next month we may well meet again across the green baize
I won’t worry so much about luck this time with her very fickle ways.

David Smith