JUST WORDS
THE PRINTED WORD
I have loved the printed word
For much longer than I can recall.
I've crossed a few bridges,
And I've scaled a few walls.
I've traveled to exotic places
And seen rare flowers bloom.
I've visited the four corners of the world
Without leaving my living room.
Though they know me not,
I've met some famous folks
They've shared their stories with me
As well as a couple of jokes.
I've learned the rules of the game;
What I should and should not do.
All because of the printed word,
Always teaching me something new.
Then there's the ubiquitous fine print
With its conditions and its terms
That are generally penned
By the lowliest of worms.
The thousands of books I've read
Have allowed my imagination to soar.
The dreams, the plots and the hype
Have touched me to the core.
So when you know not where to turn,
And your thoughts appear somewhat blurred,
Turn to the books you once revered;
Turn to the printed word.
FANS
An hour before game time
The gates swing wide apart.
A wave of fans sweep through;
They are baseball's soul and heart.
It's the thrill of the game
Whether it's win or defeat.
It's the smug satisfaction
When you find a good seat.
Fans gravitate to their favorite spot,
Securing it with with cushions and such;
Marking their territory for all to see,
Assuring a place others won't touch.
Kids wearing baseball mitts
Eagerly await their team,
Thrusting out an autograph book
For a signature and a dream.
The start of the game is greeted
With rousing and raucous cheers.
"Batter up" cries the umpire
Prepping for the inescapable jeers.
The smell of popcorn and hotdogs
Slowly permeate the air.
Eating with relish is the norm;
It's part of baseball fanfare.
And so it goes from year to year.
It's the same friendly faces you find,
Anticipating the start of a new season.
These fans are one of a kind.
THE PHONE
The phone is ringing.
Do I really care?
I say let it ring.
I don't want to know who's there.
The phone is ringing.
Why won't it cease?
All that incessant noise
When all I need is peace.
The phone is ringing,
An intrusion in my life
Where turmoil reigns supreme
And oft I'm impolite.
The phone is ringing,
But do I want to hear
The words of another
Sounding hollow and insincere.
The phone is ringing.
I commence to waiver.
Perhaps I can't just yet;
Suppose someone needs a favor.
The phone is ringing.
I pause and in despair
Pickup the receiver
To find nobody there.