The Seven Stitch Catch Poem by Burt Poole

Twas the night before Christmas on a
nicely paved lot,
that a grandpa first learned that sixteen
he was NOT!
He and a young grandson were playing
catch with a ball,
When much like Humpty Dumpty, grandpa had
a great fall.
‘Seemed the pavement came up to meet him
half way.
So, while his face turn to crimson. his
hair turned more grey.
It is good to remember, if you want to
play catch,
That a granddad ‘gainst grandson and
pavement- -no match!