Baseball Poem by Brian Aji

Baseball



They call it our national pastime,
The feel of the glove, The smell of the pine,
Heaven knocking on your door,
The great dirt and grass floor,
But why, are the innings limited to nine?

Thursday, October 9, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: baseball,heaven
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success