The sandlot ghosts have long since flown
No longer do we hear them moan
Their cries through summer nights cannot pervade us.
Still the sounds and sights ~ of close game fights
The slosh of sweats ~ with no regrets
Do echo hearts and minds that once portrayed us.
To feel again that sandlot cling ~ oozing into everything
Awakens like a technicolor morning ~ So rest the mind
There is no season’s end ~ Baseball is Forever.
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Bill McCurdy
Principal Writer, Editor, Publisher
The Pecan Park Eagle
Houston, Baseball, & Other Musings.
The Pecan Park Eagle 