A BASEBALL DREAM    

On a farm where he grew up, in 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