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