Playmate

Looking out Of our upper room window Over looking the garage Where my old court stand still, with Its ring attached to the cemented wall I see my dearest son, five years old Playing basket by himself Dribbling the ball Zigzagging, against the unseen opponent Then he jumped, releasing A long range shot And the ball landed into the net. Shoot, three points So happy to see him, playing Thou, as he walks to recover the ball, to do it again I can feel his breath Heavy and discontented, touching my heart That made me whisper to the wind Don’t worry, son Dad’s rushing enough to give you happiness I promise you You’ll have your own playmate Your beautiful mom is now one month late