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Poems of the Month

Be Careful What You Wish For

I hear in the distance that familiar sound.

My heart begins to ache; my heart starts to pound.

Tennis shoes squeaking; the bouncing of the ball.

My heart begins to ache; my heart starts to fall.

How I miss those days

of coaching and calling out plays.

Then I hear in the distance that familiar sound.

My heart stops aching; my heart doesn't pound.

"Hey Coach, get my son the ball!"

My heart doesn't ache; my heart doens not fall.

Oh, be careful what you wish for.

You might again be coaching and another mad parent waiting at your door..