inner child

inner child

my Converse All-Stars kick the dirt

further shaping the mound

I feel the rough leather sphere

interrupted by raised stitching 

in my hand

I adjust my weathered hat

with visor down

No sun reaches my face

No smile either

I’m a serious kid

with a strong arm,

quick glove,

and pockets full of dry wit & Bazooka gum

I like being a catcher.

I can hide under my armor,

feel protected

and make myself ever so 

small

I am shy. 

So why do I love being the pitcher

with all eyes on me?

I single-handedly get ‘em out - “Strike Three!”

or let them on base without even swinging the bat- “Ball Four.”

Either way I stand tall.

I don’t care if I win or lose

I don’t feel the pressure to perform (yet).

I am smart and get good grades 

I don’t notice the dangling carrot (ever).

I know I am the only girl in the league

And that makes me special (always).

I just want to blow bubbles 

and

play 

ball.