Field Of His Dreams
Gently, on a baked ceiling of a field
a boy ruffles my fluttering shirt
like a naughty, vagrant wing,
and picks a baseball on the grass…
this smaller kid of almond eyes
clutches it with deep longing to play,
but he could not; his wounded legs gave way.
Yet, he claps and screams like all gamers
such a radiant joy with wobbly feet,
that I liven him up to pitch for one round,
while the team rallies for a winning ride.
Taking in the fire of the crimson day,
this lean figure of almond eyes takes his spot
the crowd wheezing, ' take it home! '
grasping the orb as if it were a white globe.
In a precise twirl, the fast ball reels
curving much higher, splitting the air
until those limbs swivel off freely…
the batter out: through joy and pain,
one young limping boy of summer’s dream
becomes a brave, victorious man
that in this park's recreational feat...
he's never going to be the same again.
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