Jul 2015
Even as I walk past,
Comerica stands
grass illuminates like a lamp post on a winter night.
Tigers season, baby
Dad and I do our yearly tradition.
The smell of the park is second to none.
But not this year.
Dad ain't doin so well.
His knee ain't up for it.
Love you, old man.
Maybe, just maybe, the old Tigs
will surprise us and make the playoffs
and then
maybe, just maybe,
we can go to a game
and let that tradition ride on.
Comerica stands
grass illuminates like a lamp post on a winter night.
Tigers season, baby
Dad and I do our yearly tradition.
The smell of the park is second to none.
But not this year.
Dad ain't doin so well.
His knee ain't up for it.
Love you, old man.
Maybe, just maybe, the old Tigs
will surprise us and make the playoffs
and then
maybe, just maybe,
we can go to a game
and let that tradition ride on.
Poem inspired by the All Star Game coming up. Every year it's our Father-Son tradition to go to a game but dad has knee replacement surgery so it's hard to get to this year. Baseball is one of the only things we bond over.
