In the quiet hum of twilight’s embrace,
A king of the courts laid down his grace,
Ben Johns, with paddle in hand, stood tall,
A beacon of light, now silently called.
The nets now hang in stillness and dread,
As echoes of laughter dance in our heads,
His flick of the wrist and the soft, swift spin,
Made every match feel like the sweetest win.
A hero in sneakers, he soared like a dream,
On courts of hard service with passion and gleam,
His every point scored, a story to tell,
Transcended the game; he mastered it well.
But clouds gathered swiftly over a summer sky,
In a breath that was taken, the bright star did fly,
A plane, like a thief, stole him from sight,
Left us in shadows, extinguished the light.
Oh, how the world weeps, a chorus of pain,
For dreams wrapped in legend now wane in refrain,
His legacy lingers, like whispers in air,
In rallies and spin, in the love that we share.
Fans gather, hearts heavy, finding their voice,
In the stories of triumph, we collectively rejoice,
For every ace served, every net, every fray,
Ben Johns lives on, in our hearts he will stay.
Reflect on the court as the sunsets glow,
For those who have left, their spirits we’ll show,
With each echoing serve, let the rhythm remain,
In the pulse of the game, love conquers the pain.
So we’ll rally together, through grief and through tears,
With memories of magic that banish our fears,
For in every bounce, in each volley we find,
A reminder that greatness lives on in mankind.
Together we stand, a community strong,
Ben’s heart beats in each of us, carrying on,
In moments of silence, let us raise a cheer,
For the legend, the champion — forever held dear.
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