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By Rossey Weeks
I was driving by the ball park the other night.
There was to be a game and someone turned on the lights.
I used to play there years ago.
I wondered if now I was too slow.
I thought, "Could I run the bases once more?"
Getting my legs out of the car was a chore.
I pushed myself up with my cane.
When I was young, I never had this kind of pain.
I walked out on the field;
The pitcher hurled the ball across the plate, I swung my cane, hoping I wasn't to late.
I heard the roar of the crowd, "Run, run, run."
As I made it from base to base I thought, "Lord, what fun."
Then I slid into home.
I turned to wave at the crowd. They were gone.
An attendant yelled, "Lady, are you for real?"
"Quit tearing up my field."
"Old Lady, you're playing ball in the windmills of your mind."
"True, True," I said, "and I hit home runs every time, in the windmills of my mind."
As I walked past him, I thought, "Such a young face."
I told him, "I know more about being young than you do about being old."
I guess I got him told.
I could have warned him that youth doesn't last.
But he will learn;
Everyone gets a turn to look back into the past.
Contributed by: Rossey Weeks