throw

throw

I still smell those sugar beets

River rounds

Indian summer heat

Oak Grove

Used to roam

September sunsets

Riding home

How the clouds would float

Above that railroad

As trains go by

And old men go

To pretend that they don’t

Have aching knees

And can barely throw

Someday, I know…

Don’t remind me

One day I’ll throw

And the arm will go

Then it’s official

I’ll never go pro

But in moments like those

It didn’t really matter

Because I could still throw

Tell you what kid

There will be a lot of things

You wish that you did

And a lot of pitches

You wish you had hit

But when spring comes

And the sun melts the snow

Wake up each day

And be happy to throw

Until one day you’re grown

And you can’t anymore.