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 chance.

  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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