This poem is short and sweet, and it’s one that so many folks can identify with. We can’t all be great ballplayers, but one doesn’t have to be able to hit a fast ball to be in love with the game. I came across this one in Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.
*
I didn’t even make
the seventh grade
girls’ third team
substitute.
Still can’t
throw straight.
Last Easter, scrub game
with the kids,
I hit
a foul right through
Captain Kelly’s French doors,
had to pay.
Still, these sultry
country nights
I watch
the dark ballet
of players sliding
into base,
and shout “Safe!
He’s safe! He’s home!”
and so am I.