The Pacers play, the tension's high, Against the Thunder, stars in the sky. But one true hero, round and grand, A pizza waits, a slice in hand. Its cheesy scent, a warming hug, As baskets swish and fans all shrug At fouls and misses, close and tight, The golden crust, a beacon bright. A feast of joy, for every cheer, A winning bite to quell all fear. With every score, a hunger fed, Celebration blooms, from crust to head.
