It sure took me a while to get the hang of that bat.
The grip just wasn’t right.
With a friends’ help, I swung and hit;
probably, hundreds of times.
In the end, I felt that I could,
smack a mountain and send it sailing for yards,
with that bat.
Softball was a blast, when I was a teen;
Every swing of that bat; every ball that I smacked;
swelled my chest with pride.
A dusty slide into home base;
Jettisoned me into ego-space;
oh, it took awhile to come back down to earth.
There were, cheers from the bleachers
and the smell of popcorn,
hot dogs and soda pop permeated the air,
like a winter fog.
Perhaps it was those succulent scents, more than the cheers, that kept us winning.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2019
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.