My Eyes Were Always Set Upon 'Home' Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I did not prepare and struggle,
To get to first base.
To stand and bask in adulation alone.
My eyes were always set upon 'home'.
With the hopes that someone there,
Wanted to see 'us' win.
Doing their best to allow that to happen.
And not just wish to swing at the wind,
To strike out.
Time and again.
Or foul everytime they came to the plate.
To dine on my efforts.
And await for that fate in anticipation.

If everyone does not participate.
Or values what it takes!
What is the point of my attempts,
To sneak back home?
Diving through obstacles.
With a chance to break a bone.
To only know,
What I've done I've done on my own.
And can do elsewhere.
With much more appreciation shown.
Even if I was directed to go back into the field,
By choice.
There would still be love to produce for others.