Sara Stowell


Brother - Poem by Sara Stowell

We used to run, we used to play,
We’d play baseball every day.

We were close, way back then,
as I’d hoped it could be again.

But we grew up and went our ways,
and forgot about our younger days.

No more baseball in the park,
no more ghost stories in the dark.

We each have jobs, we have our wives,
as we live out our separate lives.

Sometimes I see him, with Christmas cheer,
when we get together one time each year.

But we don’t run, and we don’t play.
We don’t play baseball on that day.

We simply sit and shoot the breeze,
with emotion cold enough to freeze.

And so two strangers say their goodbyes,
One drives away the other flies.

Then comes a tear, and then another.
Another year to miss my brother.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 29, 2006

Poem Edited: Tuesday, July 20, 2010


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