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Tulsa Torres Poem
Clean uniforms all lined up
One set on each side.
Two flags- state and country-
Salute from across the field.
Swing, swing, swing again
And a thick clink,
Everything moves at once.
The ball- outfield, second base,
First base, third,
Shortstop and then the mound.
Is he out?
You bet, tagged at first.
Good boy.
Batter up, tap tap tap on the ground,
Swing around to ready.
Swing, swing, swing again
And again and again.
That's three, my boy, you're out.
Change sides.
Copyright © Tulsa Torres | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Tulsa Torres Poem
A piece of the puzzle isn't the whole picture
It's not the whole story, the whole book
Not even a sentence, just a word, probably.
Cars aren't just engines they're beasts of pieces
Big and small
Not just one, you need them all.
Fingers don't make up the whole arm,
Or even the whole hand
They're just pieces of the mechanism.
Eyes are the windows to the soul,
Just more pieces of the whole.
With my eyes I look at you, my love
With my lips I kiss yours
With my teeth I show you my smile.
With my hands I touch your face,
Your neck, your chest,
Your pieces.
With my mind I fell in love with yours,
And gave you all my pieces.
Copyright © Tulsa Torres | Year Posted 2016
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