Rita A. Simmonds Poet Rhyme

Notes About The Poem

The Catcher

In those eyes you threw
your sudden love,
like a ball thrown hard
at a catcher’s glove.

And I felt it and waited,
stunned,
un-mistaken,
wondering how I’d return it
unshaken.

To lob the ball
was all to do.
My arm was poor,
but my throw was true.
You left the mound.
You turned your back.
Had you forgotten
your turn at bat?

No bases run,
No striking out,
No popping flies
or balls that fouled.

An empty diamond.
Home alone.
My hand still stings
from the ball you’d thrown.
 
February 16, 2017
National Pastime Contest

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Donna Roberts February 21, 2017 at 12:07 PM An interesting take as a national past time. You certainly made it fit your purpose. If ever you attend another game , hope it's a home run!

Chris Green February 16, 2017 at 12:27 PM Really nicely done Rita. I was wondering where this was going to go. Good luck in the contest.