7_5_2025

Wickedjohnandthedevil

I was in deep at second, my heels in the outfield - full count
No one left out on the bases, familiar faces, the heat breaks a cloud

Hands red from the clay dirt as I held up my glove to my faaaaaaace
It smells just the way I remember, the hide and timber, the curious sound
Three strikes, and you’re out!