Just This Once

Please don’t leave me, not this time, We haven’t even finished nine, Every swing has been in sync, Not one duff, not one dink.

Just this once, I’m in command, As if this day might be so grand. So please don’t leave, not this time, Not when life is so sublime.

Yes, I know, it’s in your nature, To up and leave me for greener pastures, To make me swear and search and fret, To make me feel we never met.

Thus, you keep us all engaged, Filled with joy, flush with rage, Never quite what we expect, Here one moment, not the next.

And just like that, when you have gone, The grip, the stance … it all seems wrong. We’re left to go it on our own, Cards in tatters, seeds unsown.

Of course, there comes a future date, A dollar short, a day too late, When once again, it all makes sense, When thoughts of grandeur recommence.

But now I’ve almost finished nine, And hoping you could be so kind. To let me keep this lovely swing, Until I get through all eighteen.

— Dan O’Neill