By Stuart Shea
Rain pours down
The season has ten days left.
Why does the fall always try us?
Why must you need to be brave?
If I stay still I will not wake you.
If only the rain would stop,
my thoughts would not try to drown it out
and we could both sleep.
Dream of baseball. Can I?
The Giants and Cardinals are making a late run.
They’re fighting for their lives…
their playoff lives.
“Fighting for their lives.”
Where we’re living,
That sounds so stupid now,
so totally stupid.
Published in Free Verse, Stu Shea, The Game Itself, Uncategorized | Link to this poem | 3 Comments