Poem -

No.

No.

I always wanted to be a part of a rag-tag bunch of dreamers.  We'd meet in an empty lot and call it a field.  Surrounded by mended fences that are thrice bitten and not shy. A collection of peculiar bodies ill equipped and destined for victory as we become champions of life's little game of round-ball. Positioning ourselves at odds with one another honoring the timeless tradition of stealing bases and running home.
For the love of the game?