A BASEBALL DREAM    

 On a farm he grew up, the early days of the game,   

 A bat of his own was made from a tree that stood alone.    

 He had a name for his bat, a certain magic it contained,

 Circumstances would get in the way, a dream put aside.

 Disappeared without a trace until he arrived on a day,

 His special bat carried in hand, this was to be his last 

 For only a moment he would stand beneath the lights,

 A baseball dream before he faded into the night.

              Keith Garrett

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