My baseball mitt

Stands in my closet,

Lonely and bored,

Gathering dust,

Its leather longing to catch baseballs

Or to wrap itself around my hand just one more time.

 

My hats from each season 

Now rest on other young heads that love America’s sport;

Five colorful crests of my old little league teams and seasons gone by

In the blink of an eye. 

Seasons of laughter, teamwork, fun, and play,

And that great joy of catching, hitting baseballs almost everyday. 

 

Dust of the diamond has finally settled with the sun.

But my body still yearns

To run those bases again;

One more time.

One more catch or pitch

In the bullpen.

 

My years of running those bases 

May be five glorious home run hits from my past,

Going…

Going…

Gone!

But oh, not my friends; at least my friendships still last! 

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