As a fan of Sharapova’s from the good ol’ times I remember the fear of seeing Queen S’s name on Maria’s next round. Man that ain’t no rivalry, ‘twas slaughtering. I wish I could see one of those matches once more, where the Williams Sisters dominated them courts, where the opponents were destroyed by their first serve. Man, ‘twas golden.
My beloved is white and ruddy. His skin is as the most fine gold... his cheeks are as a bed of spices." Even though he hasn‘t washed since last December. His eyes are as the eyes of doves... his body is as bright ivory... his legs are as pillar of marble. In pants so dirt