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a boy walking home
by Charlie Morgana lazy, bronze day glistened
off the space between his teeth;
his face, not cowed by the sun.
his spirit was of Mickey Mantle.
a pitch, a swing. a miss. again.
(summer was gonna be long.)
swing, ping; a blooper
and he was out; benched.
up again next inning. he is the Babe;
a pitch, he takes it: strike one!
another pitch, takes it: strike two!
the third pitch is a cotton ball.
ping! he stands stareing. a hit. what to do?
traffic had gotten heavier, he paused,
he'll call the game that was in his head.
he could pick-up the rest of the game later.
08/13/2009 Posted on 08/13/2009
Copyright © 2025 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 08/15/09 at 11:17 PM You impped all over me again. Tis the season, isn't it? The Rangers 5 games out. Charlie's game still quite in. This one has drama and warmth and sounds that take me back when I actually hit one, feeling that ping in my arms and hardly believing that I had done it. This one was tres evocative for me. By the way, those first two lines are priceless. Now I will again take a look at your grandson to see how Mantleish he is. Thanks for leaving that picture. I just love it. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 09/09/09 at 06:46 PM Seeing baseball through the eyes of the young! Reality vs Fantasy! Which is the more fun! |
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