bridge days - 09 august 2005
trappedinmyradio
Posts: 1,189
the sun shining on an old, stone bridge
that spanned a river that was never too high
to cross with bare feet and fishing pole
little children running around the bases
of an ancient and storied baseball field below
all the cares in the world, left only in their parents' heads
only to be vanished by the crack of the bat
and sounds of laughter from afar
when afar was never very far away
the first base hit for a future major leaguer
who will discover a better summer hobby
and never round the bases again;
his smile drowned out by the cheers of mom and dad
he won't be able to see his way to second base
because of one flashbulb going off
the tears of the youngest kid on the team
because he took a pitch in the back
tears that are only erased by the team winning
and the trip to the local ice cream shop:
where all the happenings of the game are terrific
and everyone forgets
about the kid in right that dropped a flyball
sending the game into extra innings
the wrappers of pepto bismol flavored bubble gum
strung about
because chewing five pieces of gum,
at once, will make you hit farther
oh, the days that used to be . . .
the days of summer youth
the days that we'll never forget
the days that we can look back on,
for the rest of our lives, and smile
just like the smile of the future big leaguer
after getting his first base hit
memories a guy can look back on,
when he is barely making ends meet;
trying to feed his family
and keep a roof over their heads,
and smile ear-to-ear knowing that no one
can ever take that summer away
that spanned a river that was never too high
to cross with bare feet and fishing pole
little children running around the bases
of an ancient and storied baseball field below
all the cares in the world, left only in their parents' heads
only to be vanished by the crack of the bat
and sounds of laughter from afar
when afar was never very far away
the first base hit for a future major leaguer
who will discover a better summer hobby
and never round the bases again;
his smile drowned out by the cheers of mom and dad
he won't be able to see his way to second base
because of one flashbulb going off
the tears of the youngest kid on the team
because he took a pitch in the back
tears that are only erased by the team winning
and the trip to the local ice cream shop:
where all the happenings of the game are terrific
and everyone forgets
about the kid in right that dropped a flyball
sending the game into extra innings
the wrappers of pepto bismol flavored bubble gum
strung about
because chewing five pieces of gum,
at once, will make you hit farther
oh, the days that used to be . . .
the days of summer youth
the days that we'll never forget
the days that we can look back on,
for the rest of our lives, and smile
just like the smile of the future big leaguer
after getting his first base hit
memories a guy can look back on,
when he is barely making ends meet;
trying to feed his family
and keep a roof over their heads,
and smile ear-to-ear knowing that no one
can ever take that summer away
I'll dig a tunnel
from my window to yours
from my window to yours
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
I enjoyed your poem very much, trapped.
Oh, and re: your comment in Cran's thread--I don't have a computer at home so, no lookey-looking for me. Oh well.
well, maybe one of these days you can check it out...
thanks...
from my window to yours
excellent trapped, thanks!
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green