Baseball games at City Park 
Kent and I rode the squawky swings
While Dad played outfield
The lights came on round the field
June bugs flew to the glow
We tired of swings
Wished for a hot dog,
Or a bottle of Orange Crush
Dad handed us dimes over the fence
Not much happened in the game
Seemed to me, but Dad loved 
The smell of his leather mitt
The “shump” of a ball caught
The crack of the bat
The thrill of a run, an out, a safe
At home.

Published by Elece

I am a photographer and a freelance writer. I write stories, poetry, gift books, and magazine articles––both print and online. Photographing children, places, and especially flowers is my hobby.

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