The Game

His body formed a number

Hs wife a sentence or two

His parents a photo op

his children some solitude.

 

Before his boat the man did say

 

youngun you will see.

 

The moment that i leave abroad

is a moment you are free

 

The kid chokes a tick

and then he did reply

how will i hit a baseball if you up and go and die

 

His father a man of rock

a man of iron ore

that moment his body rocked

his body shook the core

 

Son in life i must confess

in death i will the same

In my heart fire grows

i'll be back to play the game

 

Young creature man, cut down he was

the flesh was torn from flesh

the bat he thought, the catchers mit

his life a bloody mess

 

A contract of the work unkept

his son alone and cold

moments ticked, his body wept

hit spirt finally fold

 

A tree was cut, stamped and pressed

some cursive at the bottom

a bat unhit, a catchers mit

a son a man forgotten.

 

Reviews

[Sheemai]

This is a beautiful and heartbreaking poem.