Bottom of the Ninth

It’s opening day (that’s for baseball);

The season’s officially here,

With fans set to flock to the ball fields

To watch, buying hot dogs and beer.

 

If life were compared to a ball game,

Each inning a decade or so,

We’d root for our home team, while knowing

The game’s sometimes boring and slow.

 

Yet other times, there is excitement

And we take the lead in the score,

Without any way of predicting

What action is waiting in store.

 

There’s a break in the 7^th for stretching,

When the game’s cut as if by a knife,

Which is like when it’s time to retire

And confront what is left of your life.

 

Then the players get back in position,

The outcome still up in the air,

But there isn’t much time to the finish

And perhaps not much power to spare.

 

Now my husband’s a bit of a joker;

This baseball/life theme’s his, not mine,

Yet when he said we’re in the 9^th inning*,

I knew I would pilfer that line.

 

*The title is what he actually said about

where we’re at, which cracked me up…