Poem | |
ERITREAN SOFTBALL GAME - 1959
One painful hot, and Eritrean day,
More happenstance, than anything we'd planned,
Our softball field, was moulded in the clay
Of Africa, the time forgotten land.
Behind a chain link fence, they came to see,
We sailors of the Ocean having fun.
While they, ten hundred, maybe more, than we,
black faced and wringing sweat, laughed at the sun.
Anticipation we'd not heard before,
Rose to their high, just when the ball was hit,
And made us give our best, of ship and shore,
Because we knew they were enjoying it.
How sad to know, we've lost the friends we'd made,
Down through the years, for lack of any shade.
© Ron Wilson
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