Lucy at the Ballpark

Below the harsh lights in a late inning chill,

On third was a runner events could soon strand,

Repenting his sins while in truth sinning still,

He looked home to gather what fate would demand.

A girl with no interest in how this game’s played,

Who never has heard of the man at home base,

Absently swats at a bug.  She’s dismayed

At even this miniature failure of grace.

The fans all despaired at the count, oh and two,

The old batter fought, but statistics revealed

No viable chances. The young pitcher threw,

A swing, and the ball lifted out to right field.

The girl was heart-broken, the sight made her cry,

The run scored from third on a sacrifice fly.