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The Pitcher
A little boy walks to the mound,
stretches his arm to warm.
Up and over and above the ground,
out of all bats harm.
Up and over goes another,
right into the catcher's mitt.
Again just like the other,
just a little harder yet.
The little boy looks closely,
at the batter over there.
Studying his eyes mostly,
and thinking 'Keep it fair'.
When all of sudden here it goes,
the fastest one pitched yet.
The catcher's glove went closed,
it was right into the mitt.
"Yer Out!" yelled the umpire,
and the batter stepped from home.
The little boy grew a smile,
because it was strikes he had thrown.
(c) Debra Hopkins All Rights Reserved
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