Metaphor

The magic of life is often nothing more
than bad judgement and mistakes
Taken not quite to extremes, an inside pitch
Remembered in the quiet softer light
of retrospect and rescue, flyballs 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 Clubhouse anyway