A Family in Paradise

A Poem by Alfred Kukitz

We all want to hit a homer even if our reasons are different.

Their were no guarantees but a home run would be nice. The sound of the bat meeting the ball. The inkling in a boy's mind that maybe this one was headed for the fences. Yes a scored run, perhaps a runner or two on base, but the real operative here was home. My foot, your foot, yes anyone's foot touching home. For these boys made up of ill gotten homes, dysfunctional families the touch of the plate meant they were with the boys or with their family in paradise.