The grass, dampened by the dew that lay upon it.

The air, so cool and refreshing.

Oh look, it's my turn at the dish.

My swing, so graceful that the ball sails far.

My strides, so long that I reach first base in an instant.

The dirt, ever so soft beneath my cleats.

The wind, blowing the ball out of the park.

The umpire's hand, high above his head, signaling a homerun.

My sprint, fading into a trot aroundthe bases.

The crowd, cheering so enthusiastically.

My team, standing at the plate, awaiting my arrival.

My cleats, they make a loud thump when I jump onto home plate.

Now the score is tied,

And we have another chance at victory.

We won't stop fighting.

Softball is my perpetual bliss.