He played ball with my son,
Young teens, years ago.
They didn’t hang out together,
Just had things in common,
Kids from families with six kids.
A rarity in this day, this world.
Now he plays college ball,
Grown and alive and thriving.
While my son has a plaque in his memory
At the middle school and high school.
Every time he takes the field,
They see him writing in the dust.
One day, my friend whispers to his mom,
“What is he writing out there?”
She turns and wipes a tear, takes a breath,
“His initials- sighs his mom-“AJL”
“He’s done it for almost 6 years-
At every game, to feel his presence.”
A bat hangs in my son’s room signed by his team,
“Never forgotten” written by this friend.
He has kept his word-
My son is there at every game.
On the link, my son is the middle photo on line 15.
beebeesworld 