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Miller image poem
January 25, 2018
I smell the freshly chopped grass,
I feel the wind whistling through my hair,
Feeling the breeze whistling through the air,
The smell of dirt everywhere,
I hear the crack of the bat,
A snap a crack a boom,
I’m off and so is it,
With two outs and the bottom of the ninth,
Flying we collide and hit,
The thrill
The excitement!
© Seita O., Louisville, KY
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