Listen, my children,
you will never know
the joys of childhood (mine) games.
You are much too busy
playing your electronic games.
You have never heard of
stickball, punchball and stoopball.
A pink ball called a “Spaldeen,”
was thrown against the stoop –
five points for a catch on a bounce,
10 points on the fly, and if the ball
hit the corner of the step, 100 points!
You are much too busy
texting inane messages to friends
describing what you did at this very moment.
You have forfeited your childhood
upon the altar of easy access to non-news.
But I, dear children, have memories
of long summer twilights when
the most important job you had
was to track the trajectory of a small, pink ball
until it landed lovingly into your child-sized hands.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME