The Baseball Game


A baseball game

All the neighbourhood kids gathered in the yard

Laughing and shrieking as we jostled to reach the highest place on the bat

Batter up!


Then the voice of our father calling us in

” You don’t have to always be first, “he scolded.

“It’s only a game,” countered our mother.

And to us, ” You don’t have to be last either.”

Then they sent us out again

Not knowing where to stand

Allowed ourselves to be pushed to the back

Standing in the outfield

It wasn’t a game any longer.


Now I am old

First or last or in between

I know it doesn’t matter

I sit and watch leafy shadows play , a patch of sun

Which slides across the floor

Such is life

The truth hard-won

Then why be sad to find no meaning there

Only momentary beauty

The heart’s allotted share.


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