An Old GAP Baseball.

 An old GAP baseball;

The reason and subject of fond memories.

You're battered and bashed,

You're scratched,

But you're still clean,

Thank god.

You're not too attractive,

Nor are you the safest of my possessions,

Accounting for the many bruises I acquired that summer.

You're certainly one of my favourite possessions, mind.

 

Midnight ball with Dad.

Waist deep in the river, retrieving.

Walking barefoot over a field,

 In shorts and a muddy t-shirt,

Climbing a tree to put you out of reach,

Falling out the same tree getting you back.

That simple game of catch,

With Dad,

That lasted for two hours.

Attracting dear Jessica's attention,

From a distance.

Receiving attention from dear Jessica,

From a closer range.

Standing in the ditch,

Hiding,

Ready to pounce.

Pouncing,

And being painful.

The prize of that card game,

That no-one knew how to play,

The subject of a starlit conversation,

On the roof.

 

I'll admit,

You were forgotten.

But I found you again,

And what we did didn't seem like much,

But playing catch with Dad again,

And not doing quite so well in the park,

With the best friends,

Reminded me.

We're back to the glory days, my friend.