Four Fingers

An odd occurrence Friday nights
When watching contests under lights
Three quarters of the match well done
And left to battle, only one

The players to their sidelines nigh
With four stretched fingers held up high
Invigorated warriors mount
As if the first three didn’t count

I’ve thought about this ballgame well
The lesson from it now to tell
It seems the years of painful past
Are coming to an end at last

For those who say their race is run
That life began at twenty-one
I’d like to think I’ve paid my dues
and life will start at sixty-two.

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