Oh Dear, What Could the Matter Be

Oh, dear what could the matter be? At twice the ripen age of three Was standing to bat at the tee Though staring blankly at a tree “Take a swing,” the coach was a she Agreeing, taking it firmly Hitting and Sending the ball free Then sprinting expeditiously A slide worthy of the laundry “Keep running,” they all said loudly “What? Huh? Run?” I said breathlessly The other team look on eagerly “Oh, ya,” was the last to hit, lovely Taking two steps, "Out!" no mercy Then overheard my mother shout "Son, no frets, those stains will come out" Standing next to her was my dad Two thumbs up, "Son, it's a Tide ad" February 14, 2018 Updated 5/14/2019 Sponsored by: Barry Stebbings