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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2223979
A retrospection of the best of one's youth in poetic form.
Shattered window
to the past
There it was
In tinkled glass.

The baseball
Rolled to a stop
At my feet
It paused, plopped.

I reached
On bended knee
My sciatica
Flaring up at me.

A face
Tragic in disrepair
Appeared trembling
Out of thin air.

My grandson
Held the enemy bat
Radar ears waiting
To be called brat.

Scowl twisting
Into my smile
Long years returned
From youth long exiled.

The boy helped
Clean up mess,
Promises of lawn mowing
Made him my future guest.

The familiar bond
The same my grandfather wrought
That remembered summer day
When I too, learned love’s cost.

Writers Cramp win

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2223979-Having-A-Ball