Student Publishing Program ::

Peter S.

My Old Man

When all the others were inside,
Sheltered from the blazing summer sun,
He was all mine.
The impact of ball hitting leather filled the air,
Like fireworks on a quiet summer evening.

The smell of freshly cut grass,
And the bright blue New Hampshire sky
Filled me with joy, like a child opening presents on Christmas morning.
Every so often I saw sweat drip from his brow
Like rain drops falling from a tree,
And I heard a low-pitched grunt
As he moved his old and cracked arm forward.
I saw him wince in pain with every throw,
But never lose his heart-warming smile.
Long accurate tosses
Brought smiles to our faces.

Now when I help him rise from bed
Or aid him down the stairs,
I notice his cracked overworked hands,
Tired from gripping onto life,
And I remember the days of playing catch in the hot New England sun.
Never did I see him happier,
For the entire rest of his life.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]