"A Wide Crowd"
There was a telephone sign with feelings away,
As less of time in blue over the strikes of day,
When a helmet was flown as much its foul to grass,
Our leave from the net at their green player for mass,
So that clock was new to me for nice play in home,
After a guy paid her visit to live by roam,
To show a few diamonds around the hands on beer,
Before that sport of throw could push my thin fog near.
*This is a poem about baseball.
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