I saw you yesterday.
The sun was warming the dirt
on the pitcher’s mound,
And a slight breeze was coming in
from right field.
A few white petals lingered on the Princess Kay trees
that line the park,
And joyful blooms of buttercups peppered the green grass,
wild hearts wide open.
I caught a whiff of popcorn
sweet and salty in the air,
And I smiled at the train of wagons and chairs,
so familiar are the words to their rally cries.
Those are the echoes that live on the wings of Childhood’s memory.
And there you were:
the hem of your untucked jersey kissed your knees;
your pants, pristinely white, hung blousy to your ankles
where they met the double knot of your red cleats.
You were running,
a wobbly but determined trot,
Your cap slightly askew,
Brown leather looming large on your left hand,
So eager to catch your dream.
I swear it was just yesterday that I saw you.
