My Son, The Blue Jay In Toronto Poem by Gayathri Seetharam

My son, the Blue Jay in Toronto
-Gayathri B. Seetharam
I know how to hit a ball to base
For I have made a child, a son who has become 19 years of age,
And can I help it if it was a home run
For my baby was a beautiful baby boy in Nov 1998;

My son during his teen years played baseball in High Park
And was known to be a power hitter
Who believed in hitting outfielders
But also believed in the walk;

My strike zone has not always been the right area
I have, since I spent a lot of time in school, mostly
Focussed on the little grey cells, mon ami, in a man
With matching good looks;

Ours being a small family
Includes a battery
Mostly, I am the pitcher
And I believe in balks;

My son is the batter
Who had a Derek Jeter bat
And my husband and I hoped in vain
That he would have the most hits by a High Parker;

But he did good and since I make all kinds of pitches
Which can be fast ball, curveball, change-up, and slider
He, as a hitter, can convert these into hits
Leastways I hope that he has the ability to do so;

And I was not talking about baseball
And do revel in the fact that the Toronto Blue Jays won the
World Series in 1992 and 1993 when we lived in Tempe, Arizona
And in more recent times, the Blue Jays won the Guilded East
For the Days in the Wild West are a beautiful memory in my mind.


Acknowledgements:
1. The internet for having made me learn baseball terms