a boy walking home
by Charlie Morgan
a 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.
Posted on 08/13/2009
Copyright © 2019 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!