A Dying Wish
If I had a dying wish
Before I take my final breath
It would be to enjoy one last day of summer
And with my sons have a game of catch
The sun beating down upon us
Sweating on a sultry summer day
Standing on a patch of freshly cut grass
In the field where we used to play
The smell of cowhide leather
Unique to a baseball mitt
And the sound of the fast pitch popping
In the pocket when it hit
Just tossing the ball back and forth
Between a father and his sons
With trivial conversations
About life on all our tongues
With the girls waiting on a picnic blanket
Under the shade of a tall oak tree
And to once again see my smiling wife
Happily watching our boys and me
Yes, if I had a dying wish
Before I take my final breath
It would be to enjoy one last day of summer
And with my sons have a game of catch
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