Bottom of the 9th and 2 outs.
This little leaguer's up to bat.
I try not to hear all the shouts,
But, it's scary where I am at.
The first pitch whizzes by. Strike 1.
The next I swing at, but Strike 2.
The 3rd pitch - I get the job done,
Smashing that ball into the blue.
I run while watching in suspense,
Then twist my foot and feel the pain,
As my home run ball clears the fence.
But, I'm down with an ankle sprain.
Rounding the bases like a dream.
I'm carried by the other team.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem