HE MADE EVERY GAME *
|t was a nasty day, cold and misty, so most of the
fans left by the third inning. He stayed though,
leaning on the trunk of a sugar maple and pulling on
The other guys, all clad in fancy uniforms and cocky,
A double play would mean the championship,
A grounder, hard and low, twisted toward me.
He pumped a fist, and a smile played around his lips.
He was my dad, and I miss him. Every day I miss him.