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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem