Step UP

by john clare

In a timid step we tip toed over the egg shells
Taking care not to break any at all,
Kept a safe distance from the bombing range,
Watching for the planes in case they fell.

She said, "Step up to the plate!",
Assuming she knew the rules of our game.
Eyes shut, we flinched to meet the coming fate,
Just when we heard falling,
"You men are all the same!"

In our fields of dreams lays a rubber plate,
We brush and keep it safe from home.
Step up and knock our homers,
Way beyond the bombing ranges,
Going, going, GONE!

And in the breaking of the plate,
It's the price we pay to rid the dust.
The settling down we really hate,
Just dust, but bombs dropping on us.