Twenty Nine Years

This well worn glove
Smooth and aged
I’m drawn to its beauty
Seen it weather the storms
All the home runs and strike outs
Watched it fall to the ground
Then raised once more
With deep lines filled with oil
There’s no other fit that can match
I remember the first day
So beautiful and pristine
Like children we played
Now through all the years
It has grown to become
The most faithful of all
My most treasured friend
The game is still on
The match to be won
No words can describe
The honour
The pleasure
Such joy deep inside
That you and I
Still fit like a glove


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