sandlot wars....

for those of us who deemed a louiseville slugger one of life's necessities....

embattled titans 'neath a midday sun

 

twenty less two they number there

in a steely struggle of hit and run

their rallying war cries fill the air

a blue jeaned combatant swings a menacing club

at a hurtled sphere of hide and stiches

the apple pierces the infield's hub

past a diving figure in grass stained britches

on and on the battle rages

grimy warriors, sweat-soaked and grim

adolescent honor the hard sought wages

for which they expend every ounce of vim

o woe to the youth of such misfortune

to never a sundrenched outfield prowl

to man not a corner or a keystone junction

or of a four bagger never silently vow

 

for fleeting are those carefree times

and to the past so quickly rendered

 

giving way to adulthoods reason and rhyme

 

though in our memory tucked away and tender

 

 

 

Reviews

[Paula]

Love this. you definitely brought the feeling you had in this moment to life especially to those of us who don't play baseball. very descriptive with a great rhythm

[fugitive]

Thanks, Rosalie.....baseball was part of life in our neck of the woods in the 60s.....appreciate the comment...