World Poetry Day – Baseball Simile

I’m like a rookie coming to the plate
Two out, the bottom of the ninth, no score
Should close my eyes and leave it up to Fate
Full count, it’s far from Springtime anymore
She’s like a pitcher with her steely eyes
Considering her possible designs
A hanging curve? A fastball blowing by?
I never got the hang of reading signs
I swagger to the box and take my place
With steady Karmic breath my fear relieve
But my percentage chance to get on base
Crowd roaring in my head just can’t believe
The stretch, the wind-up, and the ball takes wing
“Hey, batter! Open up your eyes and swing!”