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