Chances that were missed, the reasons all forgotten now. |
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MetaphorThe magic of life is often nothing morethan bad judgment and mistakes, taken not quite to extremes, an inside-pitch Remembered in the quiet, softer light of retrospect and rescue, fly-balls caught And the few regrets of a season, looking back, are not things done badly, missed plays Although I’ve thrown a few bad innings But the chances that were missed, the reasons all forgotten now But reasons there were, in reasoned times, for letting friendships drift, or kids who meant the world, take a bleacher seat Horizons had the focus then, leaps forward But you can’t slide a fastball past a kid And maybe there’s some justice in the fact they’ll have their own and see it from the mound The split-fingered, hitching up your pants side And walk the man at the plate, depending on believing in a double play, to end the inning But it’s a lonely walk to the club-house anyway |
 This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats. |
