the pitcher is ready, a fastball he flies
I swing just as hard as I possibly can
love says "strike one" as I try again
choke up on the bat, pull down on my bill
nodding my head, a new pitcher on the hill
it hurls past my chest, just missing my heart
love says "ball one" as the clock again starts
it's the seventh inning stretch, I need the relief
I brush off the dust, no way I'll retreat
the coach saunters over, giving me a pep talk
as the lines are redrawn on the infield with chalk
the board shows each tally, each inning not close
no intervention from heaven or its holy hosts
I shut the book on yet, another losing season
I'll still play the game with faith in the reasons
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
No comments:
Post a Comment