© Chuck Duboff

Alone,
The pitcher’s mound
My solitude.

I lay there,
Deep in thought
50 years have passed.

In wonderment,
I attempt to process
A life.

A toddler,
Forever afraid
Baseball my escape.

Teenage years,
Lost, finding self
Batting averages…nirvana.

Suddenly married,
Self loathing
Billy and George entertain.

Two wonderful kids,
Yet, my programming sabotages…
With only baseball to hold onto.

Alone yet again,
Adventure, recklessness, anger
Muted by the Core Four.

The pitcher’s mound,
Chuck, Matthew and Ben…
Slowly I find myself.

Ben pitches and I smile,
Matthew shoots pics and it feels good…
Baseball, my life