Sunday, January 4, 2015
Baseball
Berks Bards
and Fightin' Phils
start a game;
a pitcher whacks
baseball bat,
wham,
The ball flies.
One,
two,
three
base.
Who is going
to win this game?
Upper bleachers
are breathing
on my neck
and my hot dog
falls on the row
in my front.
Coke follows.
Nobody noticed.
This is called
the game!
Copyright © Marie Neumann
Baseball Poetry contest 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment