In the dawn's first light, the court awakens,
A young boy with a ball, his spirit awakes.
Sweat drips from his brow, not from fear, but from fire,
In his eyes, the game is a burning desire.
He dribbles the leather, a dance of control,
Around defenders, he weaves like a soul.
Jump shots rise, like birds in the sky,
Every miss a lesson, every make a cry.
In the final seconds, the crowd holds its breath,
He steps up, the ball in his hand, a weight of death.
A flick of the wrist, the ball soars,
Into the hoop, a sound that makes the world roar.
His dreams are not big, nor are they small,
They are the court, the ball, the call.
To run, to jump, to feel the air,
In every shot, a part of him is there.
As the sun sets, the court is empty,
But in his heart, the fire won't be sleepy.
A basketball boy, with a dream so true,
Leads the way, for the next generation too.
