LIFE IS SIMPLE IN LATE OCTOBER

Baseball is more interesting when runs are few.

Love is best when I don’t know. And so I love you.

I whiff when you throw fast, and when you throw slow.

I love you, anyway. You just never know.

To guess fastball, and win it all

1-0, with a fly ball almost foul, that just makes it over the wall.

To win you with a poem, or something stupid I say.

A kiss. A wish that reaches you from far away.

Never mind the dinners and the wedding ring.

I like it when you don’t think you can but I tell you, you can sing.

You don’t believe in yourself. You never do.

You get upset at nothing. And I love you.

You made me hate you. But I keep on loving.

I was nervous, but my mind keeps moving.

Two strikes, two outs. You don’t smile.

I once thought I could hit a baseball a mile.

But you throw too hard. I can’t hit you.

I just stick my bat out. I steal. That’s all I can do.

Bring it. Hate me. I still love you.

Baseball is more interesting when runs are none, or few.

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