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A Swing at Friendship

Contributed by that_guy on Saturday, 21st January 2006 @ 02:14:57 AM in AEST
Topic: FriendshipPoetry

I was not about to give up yet.

I could smell failure within my helmet.
The bat I was holding, I knew,
Would taste like defeat if I licked it.
I was sure that my eyes showed weakness,
Showed the frailness within me,
Showed the insecurity within me,
Showed the anxiety within me.
Sweat poured out my forehead,
Along with my assurance,
Along with my enthusiasm,
Along with my self-esteem.

The pitcher seemed to notice my weaknesses.
Even the outfielder from way out there
Could smell my putrefaction.
My teammates in the dugout
Started packing up.
They knew I wasnt going to hit the ball.
They knew I was unreliable.
They smelled it like a dog smells fear.

One swing, one strike;
Now the kids in the audience knew it was over.
One more swing, one more strike;
Now those kids started leaving.
Now the coach went to the lockers.
Now the outfielders started closing in.
One more pitch from the pitcher,
One more glance at my friends,
Standing in their seats
With smiles on their faces;
They hadnt given up hope yet.
They couldnt smell any weakness.
They couldnt see the fear in me.
They were tense,
as if the World Series was ending in this last pitch.
They still had anticipation

The ball came fast,
But I didnt need my eyes.
I could smell a success coming already.
I swung my bat-
In it, a new smell,
A smell of victory.
Strike three, said the umpire
(Who said it before the ball was caught).
I looked at my friends, with a smile.
They hadnt given up on me.
They still stood there, as if nothing had happened.
Not a bit of disappointment in them.
I knew, from the instant I saw their smiles
That I had ended victorious
in choosing the best of friends.

Copyright © that_guy ... [ 2006-01-21 02:14:57]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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