Tennis Ball

Tossed around the court
Flying through the air
Feeling the strong breeze on my face
Rushing through me

I can be thrown
I can be hit
I love my job
Nearly every bit

I am many colours
Representing my mass
However my flashy white stripe
That's the catch

I am often stolen
I am usually misplaced
I get thrown over the fence
I am shoved in a dogs face

I can go as fast as an eagle
I can go as slow as a snail
I can go as high as a mountain
I can go as low as a quail

I can end up anywhere
The far corner on the court
Inside a bush in a backyard
Stuck in a tree at a park

There is a downside
I get older as time passes
I fade I soften I become flat and furry
And eventually I break