My Coach Poem by Daniel Miltz

My Coach



I am running to home plate
With the fielder throwing late
While tagging third base I almost ate
The unbalanced run my coach likely scold
Saying it's partly why I'm always cold
As a player, I am just getting old
While my coach has his charms
Saying that more than hurts, it harms
I need a coach with open arms

© daniel miltz

My Coach
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Daniel Miltz

Daniel Miltz

Detroit, Michigan
Close
Error Success